Que Sera Sera Novella, Chosen Hearts Series S9
by HDorothy
Summary: Although enforced by TPTB to remain incognito about their marriage, Jack and Sam strive for normalcy outside the SGC only to discover that battling aliens is a lot easier than maintaining domestic bliss and parenting. That’s until a vengeful Pete Shanahan
1. Chapter 1

Dear Readers: I apologize for the long wait. Life has been hectic. But I appreciate your patience and encouragement for me to finish this novella. It's almost complete. The first three chapters have been revised to accommodate improvements in the established plot. I hope you enjoy the rest of this novella.

Jack and Sam hugs,

HailDorothy

Title: Que Sera Sera novella – Chap 1 - Chosen Hearts Series, S9 Follows: Forever and For Always novella

Author: HailDorothy

Category: Romance/Angst/Action-adventure/Humor

Warnings: Some bad language, violence, sexual situations between married couple.

Rating: T

Pairings: Jack/Sam

Other Characters: Daniel, Teal'c, Pete, Hank Landry, Malcolm Mitchell, Rodney McKay, Nirrti, Janet Fraiser, and other surprise appearances.

Season: S9

Spoilers: S1-S9-Threads, Moebius 1&2, Avalon 1&2, Beachhead

Story Summary: Although enforced by TPTB to remain incognito about their marriage, Jack and Sam strive for normalcy outside the SGC only to discover that battling aliens is a lot easier than maintaining domestic bliss and parenting. That's until a vengeful Pete Shanahan and a resurrected Nirrti join forces and Jack finds himself trapped in a freezer with one gassy Rodney McKay!

Series Summary: _'_'_Chosen Hearts'_ series, which not chronological written, begins with Jack and Sam's pre SG-1 first romantic encounter to present whether S9, S10 or beyond. Please read the previous posted fics of this series. Other than the twists I've first introduced and a few along the way, this series is canon based. Really!

Beta Thanks: A very special thanks to Carol Sue and Dinky Dow for their editing, advice, and intuitive gift to flesh out the real Jack and Sam. Ladies, thanks for your friendship and believing the impossible can become possible, through faith in Jesus Christ. Above all, thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving me the gift of the bards.

Song: Que Sera Sera – Doris Day. Lyrics and music: Jay Livingston and Ray Evans 1956 ©

Disclaimer: All publicity recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This series may include script excerpts from the TV Series 'Stargate SG-1.' This fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks are intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of said author, HailDorothy 2005©.

Author's Notes: Even if you're not a shipper, this is Jack based action fiction. So give it a read, huh?

Feedback: Gosh, darn, don't make me beg! Pretty Please? Starvation of this writer's muse is no pleasant sight. All feedback is food for thought and well digested. "Feed me, Seymour!" (The Little Shop of Horrors)

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CHAPTER ONE

Jack's Minnesota cabin, four days after Daniel and Teal'c's arrival in Moebius II:

"_Que sera, sera, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see que sera, sera . . ."_ the song his grandmother sung to a six-year old boy now seemed strangely cliché. Ever since hearing Doris Day sing the song on the radio last week, he'd not been able to get the dang lyrics out of his head.

Since he and Sam had taken it out of the closet Jack couldn't remember being happier. They'd had a few days to themselves before Daniel and Teal'c showed up to baby-sit via General Hammond's orders, until the paperwork for their new assignments went through. Well, they had and now there was nothing to keep him and Sam from being a married couple, at least in private. They so weren't wasting time.

Dusk had settled. The disbanded SG-1 huddled around a small bonfire. Flames crackled. Smoke drifted up toward the first evening star. Teal'c, who'd been filling up on burnt marshmallows, ambled toward the dark cabin to retrieve another package of marshmallows.

Daniel sat crossed-legged on the grass contemplating his third bottle of beer. Space Monkey had downed two beers without getting snookered and there was no orange to balance on the mouth of his bottle. Meanwhile, Jack and Sam were discreetly making out in the shadows, making up for eight years of restrained passion. Right now, he wanted to be alone with the woman he loved. However, Daniel and Teal'c hadn't gotten Jack's telepathic message of, _"get lost, guys." _

He knew that good things came to those who wait. Trouble was, he didn't want to wait. Time to just get up and go to their bedroom. However Sam's languid touches hinted she was enjoying the fire and the company. Dang! Lost in Sam's pliant kisses and somewhere in the depths of his lust-fogged mind, Jack heard Daniel say,

"Um, I hate to interrupt your petting session, kids, but I want you to be the first to know I'm going to Atlantis when the Daedalus sails."

Yep, that got Jack's attention. Easing from Sam's embrace, Jack came up for air. "No, Daniel, you're not going to Atlantis." He turned back to Sam who stared at him like he had grown two heads . . .again. He tilted his head and returned the look. "Whaat?"

"Jack?" her tone held warning, but too late.

"Excuse me?" he peered at Daniel's determined look.

The linguist shoved to his feet walked around the fire pit and then squatted before the couple to get in Jack's face. "I'm no longer part of SG-1 let alone under your command, Jack."

"As long as you're employed by the SGC your ass belongs to one Major General Jack O'Neill. And that happens to be me!" _There, that should end this stupid conversation. _

"Screw your stars, Jack! If I can finagle my way to Atlantis, I will. And this time you aren't going to stop me."

"Guys. . ." Sam tried to intervene but got shutdown as she eased from Jack's tensed arms and sat upright.

"Hah! Watch me! You might answer to Landry, but he answers to me. Besides, you're needed on Earth."

"Don't shovel me bullshit. This isn't about where I'm needed. It's about what you need. You need me safe, you need me where you can play Daniel's big brother. Well, I don't need you watching over me. I'm all grownup. And I don't need General Jack O'Neill as my nursemaid. I've not needed you for a real long time. But you just don't get it. You won't let go. And it's burying me!" He shoved to his feet and glared down at Jack.

"Whatcha trying to say?" Confused, Jack pushed to his knees then to his feet. Stretching, he gaped at his outraged friend. Like why was Daniel blowing a fuse?

"Oh, for Pete sakes, Jack. Look around, willya? You finally got everything you want. You're happy. And I'm glad you're happy." He glanced at Sam's emotionally drawn face as she came to stand beside Jack and brushed the grass from her jeans.

"Heck, Jack, you've got Sam. I bet within six months you'll be procreating a houseful of O'Neill rug rats."

"Um, Daniel, much as I appreciate your confidence in my ability to fertilize Sam. Ow!" Her elbow connected hard with his ribs. "I'm sure it will take us longer than a year to . . ."

"Shut the crap, Jack!"

Jack blanched and glanced wide-eyed at Sam, "Um, did he just tell me to . . .?"

"Yep." She looked cautiously at Daniel.

The linguist growled. "Look, I don't have those great things, Jack. Maybe, I never will. So please do me a favor and let me get my own life, be my own person."

"I thought you were." Jack's heart hammered as Daniel's words sunk in.

"No, I'm not. I'm always in your shadow, Jack. First, I was Colonel O'Neill's geeky sidekick, then I became," he glanced at Sam, "No insult intended, Colonel Carter's geeky sidekick."

"Daniel, I . . ." Sam frowned then glanced at Jack whose emotions boomeranged between shock, hurt and anger.

"No, Sam. Let the grown man finish." Jack's hands directed traffic.

Sam swallowed and slid her hand over his clenched fist and then looked up at Daniel who was the color of a ripe tomato.

"Jack, in the ten plus years we've known each other, no matter what I did, I was always under your wing. Most of all, everyone compared me to the lean, mean, mouthy, fighting machine of Jack O'Neill and I never made the mark. I'm tired of competing with you, of seeking your approval in everything I do and needing your permission to do what I want. I want to go to Atlantis. And this time, you are not going to hold me back."

"Daniel, I've never wanted to hold you back."

"I didn't say it was intentional." Jackson dragged a hand through his brown hair. "Anymore than when you held Sam back."

"Hey hey, that's not the same."

"Um," Sam tugged his arm. "Yes, Jack, it is. You can't protect us forever, that includes Daniel." He met her confirming blue gaze and shut his eyes. Anger welled inside him.

"Fine!" he waved a hand at his best friend. "The cage door's open, Doctor Daniel! Go fly off to Atlantis or some other God forsaken galaxy. And don't worry, I won't stick my nose in your life ever again!" With that he tramped off toward the woods.

"Well of all the childish rantings." Daniel started after him.

"Let him go." Sam calmly instructed.

"Oh, I'm not chasing him." Daniel countered as Teal'c walked around from the cabin with his bag of marshmallows. "I'm leaving."

"Please, Daniel?" She blocked his path. "You can't go like this."

"Yes, I can." He drew a breath and looked down at her. She saw his emotional pain and anger. "I'm sorry, Sam. I love Jack and despite his ornery bedside manner I know he loves me. But I'm suffocating here. I need to find out who Daniel Jackson is without Jack O'Neill, without you or Teal'c."

"I understand, Daniel. You have my blessing. I just wish you guys would part on better terms."

"Yes, well, if it happens that old coot has to the sucking up. I'm tired of being the first one to kiss ass."

Sam nodded. She wished Daniel knew how much Jack had changed, especially this last while. When Daniel headed for the cabin to collect his belongings Teal'c blocked his path.

"Not you too?" Daniel groused.

"I could not fail but hear the disagreement between you and O'Neill. Although I did not realize you were lost, Daniel Jackson, I apologize if in any fashion I have restrained you from finding yourself." A slight smile tugged the Jaffa's lips and Sam realized he was trying to add some humor to the edgy situation.

"No, Teal'c, you didn't restrain me from finding myself. In fact, if anyone's to blame it's me. Now, I hate to be the party popper here, and I know you drove, but I'd like to head home tonight. I'm sure you want to stay, but could you drive me to the airport?"

"I'll drive you," Sam offered.

"That will not be necessary, Samantha." Teal'c injected. "I already informed O'Neill that I must return to Dakara. Also, General Hammond and Cassandra are expected to arrive tomorrow, so our presence will no longer be required to oversee the lovebirds, correct?" he smiled.

"Yes." Sam sighed out in defeat.

"Good." Daniel stepped around the larger man, "Then let's pack."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

One week later:

Jack loved to watch her sleep. Ironic that after all these years, some of his fondest memories on and off world were watching Samantha Carter-O'Neill sleep. How many moments had he stolen, waking up while his team slept to watch over her, and be there when demons attacked her peaceful dreams? Too many. He used to wonder if she knew. He didn't anymore. Even though she slept, Sam knew he was awake, watching her. Of late, it seemed to help. Her demons didn't come too often of late. Mainly Fifth.

Jack yawned. One would think after making love for three hours he'd be exhausted. While still joined, Sam had crashed in his arms. This being Ancient definitely had its perks—for both of them.

He glanced at the dresser clock. Past three a.m. He needed his beauty sleep. Tomorrow they'd return to the real world. It would be bittersweet for everyone. Jack would pack up his belongings at the SGC and head for D.C. Sam had packing to do and would accompany him and take courses on management protocol for her new position as head of R&D at Area 51. Jack had his fill of those politically correct sessions since managing the SGC. Well at least they'd have some extra time together. Teal'c hadn't officially left Earth, but had returned to Dakara to take his place on the Jaffa Council.

Meanwhile, Daniel planned to wine and dine the new CO, Hank Landry into letting him go to Atlantis when the Daedalus returned. Although that was Hank's call, Jack didn't want his best buddy taking the trip. Didn't want Daniel that far away where Jack couldn't rescue him. Let's face it, other than ascending twice, Daniel had become a constant in Jack's life. Oh, he could handle the changes in his and Sam's relationship just fine, but the thought of losing Daniel well, that wasn't going over well.

Daniel was family. So was Teal'c, but Jack realized that he did think and of feel as if Daniel was that missing kid brother he'd never had. Despite their age difference, they had a sibling bond that often bordered on childish sibling rivalry. Their less than adult behavior last week made that obvious. Sam hadn't been pleased him. Maybe she was right. He needed to let Daniel go, to make choices and mistakes on his own, even if it killed him. See, that's what Jack had a problem with, the dying part.

Their last conversation had been explosive and Daniel revealed just how much he resented Jack's big brother mind-set. Jack had been devastated. He'd never realized! In fact, Daniel packed and left without a goodbye at least to Jack, who mulishly didn't make an effort to rectify the situation. Now he wished he had.

"Hey," Sam yawned against his shoulder, her warm breath sending a pleasant shiver through him. He loved her more than he'd ever be able to say.

"Go back to sleep." He brushed his lips across the bridge of her nose and closed his eyes with a weary yawn. He needed shuteye.

"Don't wanna," In one fluid movement she straddled him, making a point as her sensual curves meshed with his lean hardness. She then dipped her blonde head and her wet tongue dove into his ear, sending a shudder due south.

"Um, Carter?" Jack's eyes rolled back as her pelvis ground against his, "Whatcha doing?"

"Just lying here, sir," she murmured then began sucking his earlobe. A huge turn-on for Jack, "On top of you, naked." Her silky smooth legs pressed firmly against his hair dressed thighs.

"Oh, good." his voice bottomed out, "Coz, I thought you were initiating plan A to seduce me."

"I am. Now be quiet."

"Ah," he sighed as his hands roamed the familiar plains of her arched back and waist, urging her closer as he let himself be seduced.

In another calculated move, Sam grabbed his wrists and then pinned them above his head as her teasing mouth and teeth worked her way down his body.

"Careful," he warned trying to keep the smile and excitement from his voice.

"Always." She murmured against his parted lips and thrust her tongue between them while she continued to undulate above him. Jack was no longer tired. He was wide-awake. So was John-John.

Two could play this game. Jack growled, eased a knee between her warm thighs and then flipped her onto her back.

"Sir!" she cried out in pleasure when he fastened her hands over her head and moved against her. "What-cha doing?"

"Plan B."

One month later – The honeymoon is over or welcome to the parent trap.

Jack and Sam sat in the University's counselor's office silently watching the thin elderly man, who strangely reminded Sam of one Professor Ernest Littlefield. He handed over a copy of Cassandra's grade scores and the comments from her professors. She and Jack scanned them. She heard Jack's grunt of disapproval. Not good. Nor that had they hadn't spoken more than a few words in hours. Mainly because they'd had a knockdown argument on their way from the airport.

They'd known for months that Cassandra's, I'm just fine act, was a ploy. First Janet's death, then after realizing that Cassandra was his granddaughter, Jacob had died. Yeah, the last two years had been rough on the poor kid.

Sam sighed and glanced over at her husband. His mouth was so flat his lips had virtually vanished. The dent between his dark brows well, one could get lost in there for days. His blue-shadowed jaw was clenched so hard she feared he'd crack it. Meanwhile his antsy hands repeatedly curled and uncurled the official letter they'd received three days ago. Amazing he'd not shredded it by now. Give him time, Sam.

Rough times aside, she knew his mulish Irish mindset and nothing she'd say or transfer telepathically would change his decision regarding their daughter's less than stellar freshmen year performance record.

"Ms. Carter, Mr. O'Neill?"

Jack physically flinched. Yeah, Sam internally sighed, another issue to be rectified, but now was not the time or place and she hoped Jack kept his wits.

The unsmiling Mr. Richards looked at them. "As I said before, Cassandra originally showed great potential. Her entrance score was an astounding 4.0. She's a genius you know."

"Ya think?" Jack muttered looking at his clipped nails before facing the man.

"However, it's not uncommon for freshmen students, especially as young and brilliant as Cassandra to nosedive the second semester. However, if she wishes to continue with the ROTC program, the required grade average must be maintained in all classes."

"You mean she's failing?" Jack's lips twitched.

"Yes at least for ROTC."

"Ah." He shook his head. "Well, that simplifies matters. She's coming home."

"Jack, Cassandra wants to stay on her own and work at the campus's medical library," Sam explained. "And I support her choice."

"Stupid choice." Jack did an eye roll.

Sam glanced over and rolled her eyes in return.

"You were saying, Mr. Richards," she said in a soft polite tone.

"Yes. I understand how difficult this must be to share Cassandra's guardianship especially being military officers. Perhaps you'd like some state intervention?"

"I don't think so," Jack groundout sitting upright in his chair, his paternal hackles apparent.

Sam winced and shook her head at his behavior. "We appreciate your suggestion, sir, but decline."

"Thank you." Jack sniffed, glanced at her and his left brow lifted.

"Um, Cassandra's been under a lot of strain, Mr. Richards. Her mother died last year and—,"

Jack grunted. _For cryin' outloud, Sam, Cass is an alien. Her parents are Ancients and now we're all talking heads. No wonder she's a basket case!"_ he said in her head, then, "We value your candor, Mr. Richards. But I believe the best thing for Cassandra is to come home with us."

"As do I. But you realize she will have to retake her 2nd semester classes and—"

"Yes. Now if ya'll excuse us." Jack stood and motioned to Sam, who remained rooted. "I never did think an eighteen-year should go off to college, without spending time in the real world, especially Cassandra."

Well, the fact she knows what you think might have affected her grades, Jack. Sam glanced up.

Careful, he warned with a dark look.

Sam drew a breath of resolve and said out loud. "Jack, I think we should make sure Cassandra wants to come home." She came to her feet.

"Like I'm giving her a choice." He snorted and shook his silver head.

Mr. Richards cleared his throat. "Um, about the shoplifting charges at the local mall —,"

Jack's mouth dropped open and he sunk back into the chair.

Sam followed his actions and gasped out, "Shop--lifting?"

"Yes, you did receive the notification from the campus police department during spring break?"

"No, but then we've been shuffling between households." She floundered for an excuse that didn't include Cassandra intercepting the mail when she'd been home for Jacob's funeral. By Jack's black expression, he was seeing black.

"Yes, she's had an arrest last month. However a second charge will put her in jail and have her expelled from the university. I'm hoping you can convince her to return home for the remainder of the summer and—"

"Oh, she'll come home all right!" Jack shoved to his feet and looked at Sam who no longer argued the matter. "She needs to be with family and get her bearings. Which I'll be glad to help her find."

Sam nodded. Oy! No doubt, if they'd lived a hundred years back, Jack would have hauled their daughter to the tool shed and whipped Cassandra's butt with a leather belt. Thank goodness for small favors.

"Here's her new address." Mister Richards handed over the paper and his hand trembled. Sam realized her husband intimidated the man.

"New?" Jack glanced at the unfamiliar street address. "Ya gotta be kidding."


	2. Chapter 2

REVISED: CHAPTER TWO 

Music blared from the six-story apartment building in the lower south end of the campus town that well, left a lot to be desired. Sam had been concerned about Jack leaving his government issued vehicle on the street. He wasn't. He had something more important on his mind. Cassandra. Sam was still getting her feet wet in parenting skills. More often than not she followed her natural motherly instincts, but right now she felt clueless. Jack seemed to have a better handle on what Cassandra was up to. That made Sam worry - - more.

Even though he wore his dark sunglasses, she knew his brown eyes had dilated to ebony.

"Didn't you ever defy Jacob's authority and screw off after you'd turned eighteen?" He glanced over as they walked the cluttered sidewalk of homeless folks towards a degenerate apartment building.

"Depends on your definition of screw off." She shrugged and handed a five spot bill over to an elderly street woman.

"Well, brace yourself, Babe." Jack snorted at the front door of a rundown brownstone building with cracked windowpanes. "Coz, our daughter's repeating history."

"Who's?" she looked at him curiously as he opened the door for her.

"Mine." He sniffed.

"Which means?" She winced.

"This is bad." His dark brows furrowed.

"How bad?"

"Wish I'd brought my zat," he muttered honestly.

Whoa, Sam thought, not good. As angry as she felt with Cass, she'd just glimpsed the level of parental rage Jack experienced. Scripture said that parents sins were passed onto their children. Jack's darkened complexion reminded her of when he'd returned from his torture encounter with Baal three years ago. Ugly.

She prayed she didn't have to intervene. His present state of moody silence cautioned her. Still, he held her hand as they sidestepped random garbage and boxes and made their way to their daughter's _new_ apartment. Graffiti scarred most of the cracked plaster walls and unsecured security doors. Sam couldn't believe that with her generous allowance and part-time job, Cassandra chose to live in squalor.

"Hon, you didn't bring your 9 mil, did you?"

"Packed and loaded." He pointed to his right calf.

"Jack!"

"Just kidding." He smiled for the first in an hour.

Her forehead puckered with a look of disbelief.

"Really." He lifted his shades and waggled his eyebrows with a wink.

"Well, maybe you should have." With the elevator out of commission, Jack escorted her through the obstacle course of five flights of garbage littered stairs. He occasionally cursed, but then she'd expected far worse, considering.

A few minutes later they stood at the dented, scuff marked apartment door. "I love you," he leaned over and brushed his dry lips over hers.

"Always." She forced a lame smile.

"Sam?" he cupped her tensed chin and looked into her apprehensive gaze. "We can do this. But we have to be firm and on the same page. Cass can't see us waver or disagree."

She nodded. "I'll back you no matter what, Jack."

"Good. Because I'm not going to be nice."

"Me either." She kissed his hand before he raised to knock.

Jack's fist rammed hard against the door. On the third blow they heard, "Oh, for cryin' out loud!" as the door got yanked ajar.

Any other occasion Sam would have grinned at her daughter's inherent remark. A lit cigarette dangling from her black painted lips and a beer bottle in hand, there was no doubt the last people Cassandra expected to encounter were her parents glowering at her, literally.

Jack looked downright intimidating in his black bomber jacket and his fingers hooked in his jeans belt loops. Not to mention his stern military you die look.

Finding her daughter dressed in gothic attire with heavy black mascara and her natural reddish brown hair dyed black, Sam failed to speak, a phenomenon that according to Jack rarely happened. He removed his shades and made lethal eye contact with their flabbergasted firstborn.

"You bonehead!" He yanked the addictive objects from Cass's black polished nailed hands and then firmly shoved her inside. Sam followed and slammed the door before confronting their inebriated teenage daughter.

"Well," Cass hiccupped, "ya should know, Major General." She gave a sloppy salute and weaved in the smoke gag-filled apartment that was occupied by boisterous partygoers at two pm on a weekday afternoon.

Ready to blow a gasket, Jack dismissed Cassandra's drunken rude behavior. Instead, he rounded the corner of the trashed living-dining area and inhaled.

_Marihuana! Dang!_

His deadly gaze settled on the six or so couples in various stages of making out. And all dressed in the same black Halloween-like attire. Geez, whatever happened to originality?

He dug the remote out from beneath a bag of crumpled chips, turned off the surround sound system and bellowed in his most intimidating voice. "Everyone out! Now!"

Twelve sets of intoxicated eyes turned to the source of that thunderous military bark and then shot to their feet and weaved toward the door. Even in civvies Jack O'Neill required and received fearful respect.

"You can't make them go." Cassandra whined and stomped her bare feet.

"Watch me." Jack snorted at her juvenile behavior.

Meanwhile, Sam dragged two intoxicated women off the couch. One no longer wore a bra. One college coed winked at Jack.

"Hey, your dad's a hotty, Cass. Can I have a go at him?"

"The _hotty's_ taken." Sam glowered and handed the girl her pushup bra.

"Nope. Cass's mom's been dead almost two years." A male student snorted as he tried to snub out his pot joint.

Sam winced when Jack met her hurt-filled expression. Of course, she reasoned, that's what Cassandra had told them. What else could she say? _Actually my real mother was abducted by an alien, named Nirrti and . . . _

"Hey, you guys don't have to leave." Cassandra tried to stop her party from crashing.

"Unless one of you can pass the _blow on me breath analyzer test_, no one's driving," Sam ordered, "Hand over your keys now!"

Despite grumbles and curses, the guests dropped their keys into a plastic grocery bag Sam held at the apartment's door. When one student began to argue, Sam put a finger on a particular nerve point of his right shoulder and watched him squirm.

"Keys or pain?" she smiled. He gave over his keys and ran like his life depended on it.

"You're one fine looking mama, Blondie." An Afro-American flirted with Sam as he passed and dropped his keys into her free hand, caressing her palm and winking.

"Thank you. I'm also one fine black belt." She watched his natural cocoa-shade pale as he turned to Cassandra.

"Oh yeah," Cassandra grumbled, "You don't want to mess with the Air Force Colonel."

"Colonel?" the youth gulped and launched himself out of the apartment. Sam assumed he was in Air Force ROTC.

An older classmate swallowed his nervousness and hightailed it past Jack, who'd just yanked him out of the bathroom, still zipping his fly. "Wow he's one pissed off senior citizen, Cass."

"Yes, I am." Jack snarled. "And when I find out who supplied the booze and joints, I'm going to be more pissed." He yanked a sleeping man off the floor and dragged him to the open door. "And if this place isn't vacated within the next thirty-seconds I'm calling the Vice Squad!"

By now Cassandra was crying in anger. "You can't kick my friends out of my place!" she ranted while Sam closed the door on the last guest.

"Your place?" Sam angrily inquired. "Your father and I paid for you to lease with another student a nice two bedroom apartment half a mile from campus. We are not forking out our hard earned cash for this dung heap."

"Screw you! It's my life and I'll do whatever I want!"

"You're absolutely right, Sunshine." Jack said with steely calm that warned Sam the storm was coming.

"I am?" Cass seemed to have sobered. _Smart girl. Daddy's torked._

"Yes. And because I figured you'd feel this way I took care of everything before we arrived."

"What?" Sam and Cass said in unison.

"Yep. As of now you have no credit cards or cash flow. I closed your checking and savings account at our bank. So, whatever your lease or rent arrangements are for this pigsty will no longer come out of your education fund account. Your inheritance and tuition fund from Janet has been frozen until you are twenty-one. But you can have these." He smiled and handed over two fifty-dollar savings bonds.

Cassandra gaped at the federal bonds.

"I believe one's from Daniel and the other's Teal'c's. Ready, Sam?" He made a sweeping gesture toward the open door to his wife who was still trying to absorb what he'd just done. He'd left their daughter high and dry, penniless. Sam smiled. Her dad would have done the same to her.

"You think money matters to me? Ha! I'm an alien freak. I can read minds, open locks, crash complex computer programs. I could probably rob Fort Knox and not get caught."

"You probably could, Hon," Sam admitted and bit into her lower lip, bruising herself.

"Knock yourself out." Jack suggested adjusting his leather jacket, searching for the car keys.

"Don't you two get it? I don't belong with you. And," she pointed at Sam. "I don't plan to suddenly become your long lost daughter. I miss, Janet! She was more of a mom than you ever were. I want her back! At least she wanted me and didn't always have 'I must save the world,' excuses. At least she didn't become a rutting bitch in heat for another man besides my father, who loved her despite her adulterous behavior!"

"What?" Sam felt the blood purge from her face and her limbs began to tremble.

In one swift move, Jack placed himself between mother and daughter. His next action shook Sam to the core. Grabbing Cassandra by the shoulders he lifted her up off the floor pressed her against the kitchen wall and got into her face.

"Jack?" Sam gestured to intervene.

"Don't!" he warned not taking his lethal glint off his daughter's wide alarmed gaze. Then in a soft tone of deadly intent, he said to Cassandra, "First, don't make assumptions about personal matters that didn't involve you. Secondly, the first rule in the O'Neill family is respect at all times. You will never speak to your mother that way, again. Understood?"

The color drained from her paled complexion, Cassandra nodded. "Ye-es, sir," she squeaked out.

"Excellent." Jack let go and stepped back.

"But—" Her O'Neill genes sought another match of wits.

"Nah ah." He wagged a finger. "You want to be on your own. Fine. You've got our blessing. Take care of yourself, Cass, and if you do change your mind, we're here for you."

"You can't just leave me like this?"

"Excuse me?" He brushed a finger along her trembling flushed face that was now streaked black with her tears.

"You heard me." She said but without the rude pitch.

"Your mother and I love you, Sunshine. You can come with us now or later." He handed over a one-way bus ticket to Colorado Springs. The choice is yours, Cassandra. That's one thing you'll always have, is a choice." No hug or kisses, Jack stalked out of the apartment. Sam knew it was the hardest thing he'd ever done with Cassandra, but she respected his decision.

"Sam, I'll be in the car." When Jack walked Cassandra looked hurt and lost. Jack had never been this hard on her before. Never once had he walked out of her life, on purpose. Sam could hear her daughter's restrained sobs, but also had to be firm and supportive of his actions.

Strange, all those times, she'd walked away from Jack and had been able to lamely justify it. This however, was different. This was their daughter who needed tough love. Reaching out, Sam embraced Cassandra's unresponsive stiff form. As she stepped toward the open door, she said quietly, "I'm sorry if I've hurt you, Cassandra. I've always loved you. Please come home?"

"When hell freezes over," Cassandra screamed and slammed the door in her face. Jolted, Sam snagged her lower lip and tried not to cry, but the tears came hard. When she rounded the corner Jack reached out and pulled her into him.

"She didn't mean it, Sam."

"Oh, yes she did." She choked out, "First I hurt you, then her. I'd no idea . . ."

"Don't worry, Babe, God will give us a window of opportunity. Cass will come home and in time the hurts will mend."

Per usual Jack O'Neill was right.

One week later Sam glanced out the foyer window of his house to see a taxi pulling away. Cassandra stood on the driveway with a few pieces of luggage. Makeup free, her long hair dyed to her natural color, she no longer wore Gothic black.

Sam was about to open the door when Jack cleaning his soiled hands on a rag approached their daughter from the opened garage where he'd been working on the lawnmower. Father and daughter stood staring at each other. Sam saw his lips move and knew he'd just said, "Cm'ere," as he spread out his arms.

Crying, Cassandra ran into his fatherly embrace. Hugging herself, Sam entered their bedroom, dropped onto the bed and cried. She should go out there, but Cassandra's accusatory words still hurt. Cass was right. Sam had left Jack for another man to experience an intimate relationship she couldn't have with her husband. Would Cassandra ever forgive her? It remained hard to accept that their daughter's rebellious streak could be Sam's fault.

They needed counseling and Jack had agreed that for Cassandra's sake, they'd come clean with Doctor McKenzie. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. Defeating the Goa'uld and Replicators had been a lot easier than being married and a mom.

Sam swiped at her tears and wondered if she'd ever feel worthy to be Jack O'Neill's wife let alone Cassandra's mother. She hoped Jack was right. That window of opportunity would sure be nice about now.

Three Months Later:

Las Vegas suburb outside Nellis AFB:

Rodney McKay glanced at his Palm Pilot organizer. He'd had one month to set his life in order, again. In eight days he'd ship out on a return flight to Atlantis. Someone who thrived on order, Rodney had one item on his list that needed closure. Samantha Carter.

She'd been the first person he'd inquired about after returning to Earth without sounding too interested, and even considering this was about Samantha, Rodney always managed to act indifferent. He'd known she had gotten engaged, even assumed she had married the Irish cop. What he hadn't expected or even hoped to hear was that she'd broken off the engagement and relocated to Area 51 after SG-1 disbanded. Which meant one thing to Rodney. He still had a chance with the hot, blond astrophysicist and just wished he'd come here sooner.

Five months after SG-1 closed shop, the grapevine remained abuzz. Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell had the gall to try and regroup the original team. Like that would happen. Not to mention, General O'Neill had been promoted to Major General and now headed Homeworld Security. Managing the SGC was one thing, but Rodney never thought the cocky, self-defacing hero would take a paper-wadding job away from the action. Oh, well, O'Neill wasn't a kid anymore. No doubt the position suited his old bones. Nevertheless, somewhere in his self-denying subconscious Rodney wondered if that was the sole reason the man had left the SGC.

Oh, about the love of his life, Samantha Carter. Rodney heard she'd sold her house in the Springs. So here he stood at the front door of her townhouse with a bouquet of yellow roses. It was too early to buy her red.

Rodney buzzed her doorbell, waited . . . and waited. Maybe she wasn't home? Maybe he should have called?

The door partially opened and a flushed makeup free Samantha Carter stood before him in nothing but an oversized bright yellow t-shirt that flaunted the face of a grinning Homer Simpson and read _Homer Simspon for President_, at two p.m. in the afternoon. Breathless, her blonde hair disheveled, she was braless. Could it get any better?

"Hello, Samantha." He grinned. "I'm back."

"Rodney?" Sam smoothed her ruffled hair and then crossed her arms over her full breasts, which jerked the hem higher up her tanned thighs. _Wow!_

"Um, why are you here?" She looked past his shoulder as if expecting to see the rest of the Atlantis team in his wake.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He blushed. "Is this a bad time?" He gripped the rose stems in his left hand behind his back.

"Well, I," she glanced behind her and then nibbled her upper lip. "Um, didn't expect company."

Rodney should have been embarrassed but seeing her in the thigh length t-shirt and nothing else, his testosterone level skyrocketed. His gaze dipped to her long shapely legs. Did he smell sex? Oh, yeah!

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "I know I should have called, but I had been visiting Area 51 and was told you had today and tomorrow off."

"I don't work weekends anymore." She stated with a tight smile.

"Yeah. That's a surprise. I mean workaholic Samantha Carter, home on the weekend. So what'd ya do, get a life?"

"Yes, you could say that." She held the door between them.

"Look, I can visit another time. It's just I've only got a few days before I return to Atlantis and—"

"No." She glanced behind her. "Um, I understand. Come in, please?" She made a feeble gesture and stepped aside, closing her eyes a moment.

Not having the good manners to take a rain check, he entered and she shut the door.

"Rodney, if you'll excuse me, I'll, umm, " she felt her cheeks warm deeper, "Get dressed." _Wash off the scent of sex!_

"Certainly." He smiled and then handed her the flowers.

Her gray-blue eyes widened. "Wow! I mean you didn't have to . . ."

"My pleasure." He grinned. "We don't have roses on Atlantis and when I saw these they reminded me of your hair and—"

"Oh, boy." She smelled the bouquet then set it on counter. "I'll put them in a vase soon as I." She motioned to her attire.

"Sure. Take your time." He settled on her comfortable black leather sofa and folded his hands in his lap.

"Um, meanwhile make yourself at home. There's pop, beer and wine in the frig."

He nodded.

Sam backed out of the small entrance and made a mad dash for the bedroom. She couldn't believe their luck of late. Wait, she didn't believe in luck anymore. _Okay, God, is this a joke or what? Coz, I'm not laughing. This is my last free weekend with my husband for weeks and You drop the most annoying person I've ever known onto my front porch, Doctor Rodney McKay with . . . roses. To make matters worse You know Jack and Rodney are like oil and water. He's going to be really pissed!_

She shut the bedroom door to find Jack sprawled naked across their king size bed on his stomach, snoring. Well, so much for a day of wild monkey sex. She glanced at her watch. Eleven a.m. She'd not been out of the room ten minutes and he'd passed out cold. Then, again she'd been putting her husband through a lovemaking marathon since they'd arrived last night.

One of Jack's stipulations upon taking the position as head of Home World Security had been his own F-302 for transportation. With coast-to-coast travel-time cut to an hour one way, most of their downtime was spent in Nevada, Washington or Minnesota. Like now, they preferred no one know they were together.

"Hey, Romeo." She tossed a pillow hitting him in the back of his silver military cut. When he didn't budge, she pinched his tight right buttock.

"Ow!" He rolled onto his left side, rubbed his injured bottom and yawned. "Hey, I was power napping."

"Sure you were." She grinned and grabbed a hairbrush from the dresser and applied it to her messed hair.

"And I'm re-energized. So, where were we, love of my life?" He extended a hand of invitation accompanied by a lecherous wink.

"Down, flyboy." She glanced below his waist with an appreciative smile.

"Easy for you to say." He chuckled then frowned as she rustled through their pile of clothes where they'd been disposed of in the middle of the cramped bedroom's floor. "Whatsup?"

"You should have answered the door, honey."

"Honey? Not a good sign. I believe I told you to not answer the door."

"Well, I did. You recall that the Atlantis team is back."

"Of course. I meet with Elizabeth Weir Tuesday. She's not thrilled about the Pentagon's insistence to replace John Shepard as Atlantis' military leader. I hope that my promoting him to Lieutenant Colonel easies the transition. Fortunately they got another week to clear things up. Of course, you and I'll be in the Springs cleaning out your place in case I need to intervene—"

"Rodney McKay's here." She said tugging on her panties and then jeans.

"You're kidding?" He shoved upright then off the bed and pranced around the room in his naked glory.

"Nope." Snapping on her black bra Sam rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Hey, don't put them away! I wasn't finished." He pouted reaching for her.

"For now you are." She sidestepped him. "We've got company." She opened the adjoining bathroom door and went to the sink to wash up.

"We?" He snorted and stuck a leg into his Porky Pig boxers. "I believe this place is listed under your maiden name, Mrs. O'Neill."

"Jack, Rodney doesn't know we're married, let alone that you're here. Remember we're to remain incognito."

"Yeah, sure." He waved her off. "I can't believe that self-centered geek came all the way to Nevada to see you." He scrounged for his black jogging pants.

"And I can't believe you'd say such a rude thing." She repeatedly ran the brush through her tousled locks in annoyance.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Jack looked up as he tugged on his pants.

She snorted.

"Oh, that." He sniffed. "Ya mean he's still stuck on you, huh?"

"Is that so difficult to swallow?" She placed her hands on her hips and glowered.

"Nope. Considering I've been stuck on you for over twenty years." He grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms about her waist.

"Um," she sighed and leaned into him. "How we going to handle this, Mr. O'Neill?"

"Plan A. It's been nine months since he went to Atlantis. I'll wander out in a few and scare the ever living crap out of him." He chuckled in her ear and then fanned back her hair to kiss her neck.

"You better come up with a better plan A." She turned in his arms and caressed the gray curls on his chest.

"Nah. I like it."

"Whatever." She snorted and flicked his right nipple with a fingernail.

"Easy," he warned with a roguish smirk. "We're so not finished." He snatched her teasing fingers and brought them to his lips, darting his tongue across them.

"Careful." Sam shivered with anticipation. "I don't need Rodney seeing evidence of what we were doing.

"Oh, I think he'll have a pretty good idea when I make my grand entrance." Jack smirked and winked.

"I'm going out there and if you dare to show your face you better be nice, Jonathon."

"Yes, Colonel, ma'am. Now give me back my shirt."

Rodney considered himself an observant person. It went with his profession. Therefore it didn't take long to deduce two people occupied this apartment. One female. One male. For the briefest moment, he imagined Daniel Jackson. Rodney knew they were close. There were pictures of him and Sam together, as well as her with Teal'c, Jonas Quinn, Doctor Fraiser and General Hammond. There were other photos' that included General O'Neill and Cassandra Fraiser. However, one particular photo worried Rodney- - a lot, the framed picture of Sam and General O'Neill.

Not only were they out of uniform they were lip-locked. That's when he carefully looked around the apartment. On a shoe mat by the front door set two pair of leather sandals one definitely Sam's, the other's pair a size twelve, including another masculine pair of white jogging shoes. The clean cloths basket contained men's Loony Tune and Simpson jocks and extra large white sleeveless t-shirts. He picked up a shirt, cringed, and dropped it in the basket. His shocked gaze then locked onto a leather briefcase that read, "Jonathon J. O' Neill. Rodney made a mad dash to the refrigerator and yanked it open. He'd heard O'Neill's favorite beer was Guinness. A six-pack sat on the top shelf with two missing bottles.

Numb and nauseas, Rodney shut the frig door. He then discerned the muffled voices that carried down the short hallway. Screw this! The last thing he needed was a face-off with Major General Jack O'Neill. Beside O'Neill could seriously hurt Rodney.

He'd yet to forget their last encounter nine months ago before he walked toward the Stargate for Atlantis. Sam and Doctor Jackson had been green with envy that they couldn't go. Of course that reason was just feet away in another room. Rodney had actually made an attempt to make amends with O'Neill, who'd just been promoted to Brigadier General and then CO of the SGC.

Rodney had gone to Sam's lab to say goodbye and thank her for having recommended him for the Atlantis mission. Now that he thought back on their conversation he realized his getting the post as lead Astrophysics scientist for that mission had everything to do with what was happening between Sam and the General.

Even with all the activity of the Atlantis team preparing to gate, Rodney had noticed things were tense between O'Neill and Colonel Carter. Her lab door open, he'd walked in on a discussion that wasn't job related. Being respectful and nosy, Rodney held back and eavesdropped.

"For cryin' out loud, Carter!" O'Neill ranted, "How can I remember what happened if you don't tell me?"

"Because Loki said I can't. None of us can, sir. Now I wish you'd drop the matter and let me get back to work. I promised Doctor McKay I'd have these last updates before they gated and that's less than an hour away."

"I hate this coming between us, Samantha."

Rodney's ears had perked up. Had O'Neill actually called Colonel Carter, Samantha? He heard rustling and a soft sigh. Sam's?

"Please don't, sir. The camera —"

"Off, so's the audio," he'd ground out.

"Convenient." She'd sighed.

"C'mere," O'Neill said to Carter.

Apparently she did. A moment of quiet followed and Rodney thought he'd have the big one. This wasn't happening? Couldn't be? He loudly cleared his voice and then turned the corner into her lab, just in time to see Jack's hand drop from Sam's tear-clouded face. Wow! What in blue galaxies?

Before he could speak, O'Neill jammed his hands into his blue BDU pant pockets. "Think about what I said and we'll talk this over later . . . Colonel."

"Yes, sir." She turned away. Rodney swore she was swiping tears from her beautiful eyes. What the hell had O'Neill done to her?

"Doctor McKay." O'Neill acknowledged in passing.

"General." He replied as the taller man stalked out of the lab as if in a hurry.

Sam put on her professional face, but made no excuses for what Rodney had supposedly witnessed. Just to make sure, he asked, "How's Pete?"

She blanched and forced out, "Oh, just fine. And you. Are you excited about Atlantis?" And that's how their farewell went.

An hour later, Rodney had managed to avoid O'Neill until the last moment. Meanwhile the different nationalities of scientists walked through the Stargate, while Rodney held back with Doctor Weir.

Rodney felt nervous enough but when he turned to find General O'Neill had left the control room and now stood talking to Elizabeth, Rodney felt nauseas.

"Doctor McKay." O'Neill stepped forward and offered his larger hand. Rodney accepted the firm handshake and then engaged those dark brown intimidating eyes. "I'd like to think I made the right choice putting you on this team."

"You did, Jack." Elizabeth enthusiastically chimed in.

"Yes, well, let's hope so." O'Neill half smiled at Rodney, "At least you won't be contesting with Colonel Carter over who's the leading expert on the Stargate anymore."

Oh, yeah, every since their first meeting when Rodney claimed to be the foremost expert on the Stargate and tried to outshine Samantha, Jack O'Neill had it out for him. Now he knew why. The man was her lover. What about the non-fraternization rules? _Shit!_ _Best get out now before . . ._

"It was nice of you to stop by, Rodney." McKay had failed to hear the bedroom door open and close. Still barefoot, Sam rounded the corner of the kitchenette wearing a pair of worn blue jeans and a sleeveless light green pullover blouse that emphasized her slenderness. His drooling gaze locked on her hooters! Whoa! Her nipples stuck right through her bra and . . .he wondered what she'd been doing with O'Neill.

"Rodney, I wish I had time to return to base with you and show you the progress we're making on the new naquadah engines, but I've plans for the day and I'm then leaving town for a week."

"Oh, yeah, well that's okay. Look, I obviously interrupted," he glanced at the bedroom door, "Something," he headed for the door.

Sam shook her head and gestured to the cozy living room that consisted of a sofa, recliner and end tables. "No, not really." Her cheeks colored.

Oh, yeah he had, and he so didn't want to encounter Jack O'Neill's wrath because the general hadn't gotten a piece.

"Please, Rodney, have a seat." She carefully took up the roses and placed them in a vase of water, then filled a t-pot and set it on the stove. "I've instant coffee or tea. Any preference."

"Actually I've given up caffeine." He lied.

"I've decaf." She smiled and his heart bounced off his ribs. Man, she's beautiful. He glanced at her bare feet, then her clean scrubbed complexion. Barefoot and pregnant, well maybe not yet, but dang, he and O'Neill had awesome taste in women.

"Um, tea's fine." He shifted his gaze elsewhere in the efficiency apartment.

A moment later Sam settled onto the sofa across from him. "I admit it's not much," she gestured around them, "But I don't spend much time here."

"Bet you don't," he blurted as he sat in the lone high-back black recliner that had O'Neill written all over it.

"So tell me about Atlantis?" Her expression was open and honest. Of course she'd be interested in Atlantis. They had a lot in common. His heart sunk.

"You'd love it, Sam. There's so much happening there. Of course, every day is like a trip through the Stargate. The Wraith remain a constant threat and . . ."

"Yes, I've read the reports, McKay." A familiar masculine voice emitted from the hallway.

Rodney leaped out of the chair and turned to face yep, Jack O'Neill in the flesh. Wearing the yellow Simpson t-shirt Sam had previously donned and a pair of black jogging pants, he swaggered confidently toward Rodney with both hands shoved into the pant's front pockets. His silver hair was worn in its normal disheveled state and he hadn't shaved.

Although the gleam in the taller man's dark eyes was not threatening, Rodney felt anxious. He gulped. Even barefoot the older man seemed bigger and more intimidating than ever. From one man to another, the former SGC CO was making a point. Rodney was trespassing on O'Neill's turf.

"Gen--eral O'Neill." He blanched and cursed his trembling voice.

"Chill, Doc." O'Neill walked up and offered his hand.

Rodney hesitated then accepted the man's larger tanned grip and shook it. Rodney sniffed. Wow! He smelled the same scent he'd smelled on Samantha. Sex. This was too kinky, even for him.

Jack let go and Rodney found himself unconsciously rubbing his damp palm on his tan khakis, wondering if O'Neill had purposely not washed up. On a warped note, had their roles been reversed, Rodney would have been just as shrewd.

"I didn't realize . . ." Rodney looked from Jack to Sam who smiled shyly. "I mean I didn't know you two, well ya know . . . " he stared at his shoes, then O'Neill's larger bare feet. Geez, the man had boats.

"I bet." Jack strolled past him and settled along Sam. He slipped an arm around her slender shoulders and drew her into him, then captured her hand where it rested in her lap. O'Neill looked at Samantha Carter with a hungry possessive look only men understood and something else, almost well, alien if possible. That was that. O'Neill gave no further explanation, turned back and stared at Rodney with dark predator eyes. Rodney was dead meat.

As if aware of the men's competitiveness, Sam clasped Jack's hand and then smiled reassuringly at Rodney. "What Jack failed to explain," she elbowed her lover who winced before grinning. "Is that our new relationship has been under wraps since SG-1 disbanded. Due to the bureaucratic paper chase we can't go public, yet. We'd really appreciate if you'd keep this to yourself. Right, Jack?" She smiled at the man whose mark of ownership clutched her shoulder.

"Yeah." Jack turned his military glint on Rodney as if to determine his sincerity. "If not," he aimed his pointer finger and winked. "I'll have to shoot you, McKay."

"I, um, sure." His throat dried up. "Of course," and he blanched. _If that wasn't a clue to get the hell out of here!_ He pushed to his feet and turned to the door.

"Jack." Sam gave her lover a disapproving scowl, gracefully stood and halted Rodney's exit with the touch of her cool fingertips. "Rodney, please stay?"

"Hey, just kidding, McKay." Jack smirked but Rodney sensed the man's distrustful undercurrent and wanted him to leave. They'd gone head-head too many times over the years and Rodney's smart lip with the _man_ now bit him in the assets.

"I doubt it, sir." Ahh, man, now he'd lowered himself to calling his rival, sir. Could he get more pathetic? Sure he could.

"Look." Rodney forced a pained smile. "It's obvious you two don't get a lot of downtime together and I actually have a lot to do before we ship out. So um, if you'll excuse me."

Jack stood and smiled, obviously glad to see Rodney hightail it out of his domain. To his surprise the man said, "Wait?"

O'Neill held up a hand and then rubbed his blue-shadowed jaw. "I need to say something." He noted Sam's smile of approval.

"Okay." This couldn't be good.

"You know all those times I treated you well, not the nicest?"

"Any one in particular?" Rodney snorted.

"Okay, I plead the fifth. But to be honest your egotistical attitude is one of the reasons I don't like scientists." He glanced at Sam who'd stopped smiling, "One Samantha Carter being the exception."

"Thanks." She shook her pretty blonde head.

"My point is, Rodney, that I sensed something between you and Sam and admit I'd felt slightly jealous."

"Just slightly?" Sam jumped in.

"Fine. I had been concerned that you two might, well, were getting involved."

"Really?" Rodney pulled to his full height and wanted to crow like a rooster.

"Yeah, well don't let it go to you head. Coz, Sam assured me there wasn't anything but some itsy bitsy physical affixation."

Rodney smiled broader and glanced at Sam, who quickly added, "A little fixation, Rodney, nothing more."

"Oh, okay, I can live with that." Then he braved, "You're sure there couldn't be anything else . . ."

"Don't push it." Jack warned opening the door with a wry smirk.

"No. Of course not." Rodney's voice bottomed out.

Sam laughed softly and leaning on O'Neill's arm, waved goodbye.

Rodney left Samantha's house with a grin on his face. Odd, he didn't feel as bad as he'd imagined after being rejected by the brilliant beautiful astrophysicist. Then again, he knew why and he was okay with that. Odd, he'd never seen it coming. Or maybe he had and just had been in denial. General O'Neill, wow! Wait until Elizabeth and John heard . . .

"I'll have to shoot you," O'Neill screamed in his head. Shucks, would the man gate all the way to Atlantis just to blow him away? Probably.

Then there was Sam's former fiancé', Pete Shanahan. No doubt, Jack O'Neill had sent the police officer packing. He wondered what became of the poor guy. Rodney hoped he hadn't died like the rest of Sam's boyfriends.

"Oh, excuse me." He looked up and almost collided with a stocky-built blond man with a lantern jaw.

"No problem." The stranger smiled and gestured at the townhouse. "You a friend of Samantha's?" He blocked Rodney's path down the sidewalk.

"Um, yes. And you?" Rodney glanced at his watch. He really needed to get back to the SGC.

"I'm her fiancé'." The man delivered an intimidating glint.

"Oh," Rodney did a double take. "I don't think so. See, Sam's with . . ." And then the lights went out.


	3. Chapter 3

**REVISED CHAPTER THREE**

"You think McKay has recovered?" Jack whispered against Sam's naked shoulder.

"Um, I can't believe you're talking about another man in bed, Jack."

"Would you rather I talked about a woman?" His wet teasing tongue slithered down her spine.

"Nooo," she sighed in pleasure. "And yes, I think Rodney has recovered nicely by now. Especially with all your baloney about being jealous."

"Well it worked didn't it?"

"You lied."

"Exaggerated."

"Fibbed."

"Yanked his chain."

"Stretched the truth."

"Yep."

"Oh, and the truth is?"

"I don't like him and well, thought you'd found him . . ."

"What?"

"Cute."

Sam tried to keep a straight face. "I admit there were some sparks, but it was totally sexual. Nothing romantic."

"Sexual!" Jack pulled back and flipped her over to face him. "You telling me you really had the hots for rubber tummy Rodney?"

"Rubber tummy?" Sam gaped.

"Yeah. I mean he's got a tire on his hips."

"I hadn't noticed." She winked. "I mean, I find that little extra baby fat attractive."

"Wait!" Jack flagged his pointer fingers at her. "You telling me that all those crunches and sit-ups I do to keep my six-pack are for zilch?"

"Nope." She skimmed her hand across his hard flat abs. "I love them like this. I'm just saying even if you didn't have them, I'd still be hot for your body, General O'Neill."

"Ahh, well and when you've gained fifty plus pounds carrying our child, and only lose ten after the birth, I'll still be hot for your body . . ." He felt Sam's wide-eyed glare. She so wasn't smiling. "I meant . . . I'm just saying, if and when, and even if you don't lose an ounce, I'll . . ." Dang, he was digging himself a crater.

"Keep digging." Sam snickered and pinched his waist.

"Ow!"

"Now about making babies," she challenged.

"Suppose we should practice, huh? I mean so when the time comes we've got all the specifics down, right?"

"Yep. In the infinite words of one former Colonel O'Neill, if at first we don't succeed, try, try, try, and try again—"

And he kissed her!

**Colorado Springs, Sam's House:**

"_When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here's what she said to me: _"_Que sera, sera Whatever will be, will be; the future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera. What will be will be._

"_When I grew up and fell in love, I asked my sweetheart, What lies ahead? Will we have rainbows day after day? Here's what my sweetheart said: "Que sera, sera Whatever will be, will be; The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, What will be, will be . . . "_

Samantha O'Neill hummed the old Doris Day song, a favorite from her childhood. Funny, but Jack had shared how his grandmother used to sing the same song. Yet so far nothing in her life had been as she'd imagined. Including the countless wrong choices that had turned into life maturing experiences, she wouldn't trade her life for anything. Especially, these last nine years, nope, correction, twenty-one years. She had everything she'd ever wanted, well all most, but future Carter-O'Neill creations remained on hold. Still, she had Jack, Cassandra, Chuck and career wise, managing R&D at Area 51.

Right after her father's funeral, their son had respectfully requested to be addressed by his original chosen name of Charlie. Sam had feared Jack would object. Instead he was receptive. After all, it'd been his grandfather's name. Their Charlie possessed Jack's first son's qualities and despite being host to a Tok'ra, remained his own person. He was highly intelligent and possessed Sam's curiosity. Yet, Sam saw more of Jack in their son, especially the stubborn streak and sarcastic wit. An O'Neill through and through and she loved that fact.

"Jack?" she wearily called out as she made one last walkthrough of her former house that had sold quicker than expected. Her voice echoed back from the empty rooms. For a moment she experienced a pang of loss. For over eight years she'd called this house home, well this, and Jack's place. Funny how every thing worked out. How it'd been Jack who'd found the small Cape Cod across from the park and convinced her to buy it, because it was within ten minutes of his place, even on a busy traffic day.

Checking for leftover boxes including cleaning items Sam yawned and stretched her aching back and neck muscles. It'd been a long morning . . . not to mention week. So much for their romantic vacation. Not that she'd complain. Other than Jack making a few visits to the SGC, they'd been together twenty-four seven. It'd been paradise, even with their occasional spats. Yeah, the adjustment of being married to Jack O'Neill had its challenges. They were used to their own space and ways of doing things, so now and then tempers flared. Man, oh, man, making up was great.

Who'd have thought Jack to be a neat freak, let alone he categorized his possessions? Sam had long suspected behind his 'I don't give a crap attitude,' lurked a disciplined fanatic. She'd been right. Yeah, this was the same man who couldn't find his desk for seven years and still flipped bottle caps into corners and considered moldy salsa a basic food group. She gave him credit, he knew where every bottle cap landed and since becoming General, he always found his desk. As precise as Sam was work wise, she remained more laid back with house chores. Although, if she fell into an open toilet bowl one more time, there'd be rectal damage on her husband's end.

"Jack?" Nothing. He'd probably gone outside to pull the last of the flowerbed weeds. He proved a serious gardener, which along with fishing, worked as his stress release. That included tinkering on one of three infirmary-rendered riding lawnmowers, a snow blower, cultivator, leaf blower and his prize weed-whacker. This didn't even touch the antique Kubota tractor, four-wheeler, and dirt bike he kept at the cabin.

The other day when she'd offered to fix his riding lawnmower, Jack bluntly told her to bug out.

"Look, Sam." He smeared his oil-stained hands against his tattered work jeans, "I know you can fix anything that involves a motor or engine in your sleep. I appreciate your offer. But, these are my doohickeys and I'll do the fixing. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, General!"

Smiling at their conversation that had ended with some greasy petting, she stepped into the empty bedroom and stared at the fresh scrubbed walls. Another memory sluiced over her. They could have hired a cleaning service, but Sam wanted to put closure on the house and its past. So did Jack. Cleaning everything seemed the best way.

They'd had their share of good and bad times in this quaint house. Now they'd start fresh. That meant getting rid of furniture, which included their bedroom sets. Even though they'd put Pete and Kerry behind them, they didn't want reminders. The Salvation Army accepted both beds as donations as well as Sam's furniture. She'd only kept the Carter antique pieces that graced Jack's, nope, their house in the Springs.

Sam crunched numbers in her head. Despite their generous joint income, maintaining three households wouldn't be cheap. Jack had insisted she lease the townhouse outside Nellis AFB. However, if she got her way, which she usually did, that residence would be short term.

Although she'd been out of Jack's chain of command for almost five months, they'd yet to receive clearance from TPTB to go public with the Chulak wedding or an Earth marriage. They'd been given strict orders to not discuss their relationship with anyone. That included the NID. Jack's newest promotion had come under scrutiny.

The fact that in under sixteen months a Colonel had been promoted to Brigadier General then Major General and finally to the premier post of heading Homeworld Security had some politicians who'd supported Kinsey displeased and squawking. All of which Jack took in his usual, who gives a crap stride. Sam remained more cautious about their marriage and did her best to avoid discussing their personal lives with anyone.

The self-righteous bureaucrats were looking to court marital Jack and, if necessary Sam. If Jack dared to admit that for the last four years he'd been married to his former 2IC, let alone the lead officer of the defunct SG-1, his admission would bring them before a military tribunal.

Many of the original SGC staff assumed she and Jack were shacking up. As politically correct as that was it didn't set well with them. For now, there seemed little they could do to right the situation. Heck, even Rodney McKay thought so, but then, he'd soon be off to Atlantis.

In the interim, she had almost convinced Jack to sell his place. Yet, they loved the house and Jack had every intention to build the second floor. Of course, Cassandra needed space to call home when she wasn't at college. Cass continued to have a difficult time with their secret family life as Ancients. What little time they did have as a family they spent working out her and Sam's issues. Once again, Jack proved more patient with their mind-reading daughter than Sam did.

As for housing, Jack had been provided with a generous housing expenditure in D.C., which afforded him an attractive Red Stone townhouse in a secured neighborhood near the Pentagon. The house came complete with appliances and furnishings. Being the boss of Homeworld Security had perks. Of course that meant, he was supposed to entertain dignitaries. Yeah, right. To date he'd avoided that duty.

On a brighter note, they'd settled into their new positions. Even though she missed the off world action, Sam liked her post as head of R&D at Area 51. Jack, well, he managed to find lots of reasons to visit the SGC, Area 51, the Alpha site, and the Russian Stargate base.

Cassandra lived with them and was getting her act together. For now, the Air Force, college or a medical career did not appear to be on her immediate agenda. She hung out with former high school friends of positive influence and lots of time with her parents.

Per usual, Jack had been right. Cassandra needed time to get her head straight and organize her priorities. He didn't want her choosing a military career because of him, Sam or Janet. No matter Cassandra's burning desire, Sam and Jack insisted they'd support her decision.

They'd met with McKenzie for six weeks solid. It'd paid off. Finally given presidential clearance the MO headshrinker had gotten past the initial Nirrti abductions, etc. He took their odd family situation in stride, commenting he'd always sensed there was a unique connection between Jack, Sam and Cassandra.

Cassandra, still had anger issues with Sam, but they were working on that state of affairs. Now that Cassandra had heard first hand about Jack and Sam's abductions and the horrendous experiments Sam had endured, and her erased memory, their daughter seemed more understanding with Sam's trust issues with men, including Jack.

Yesterday Cass drove to San Diego to spend a week with Mark, Connie and her cousins. She needed family roots and visiting her uncle was a step in that direction. Jack wanted Cassandra to meet his cousins in Minnesota, but they'd yet to decide what line of baloney they'd give the O'Neill clan.

Speaking of family, last month Sam got an A in fertility! The foreign blockage Fifth had inserted into her cervix had vanished shortly after RepliCarter had been destroyed. Sam swore she'd had a strange dream that involved some cervical pain along with Jack's soothing touch and voice. He swore she needed to cut back on her coffee fix and nightly diet sodas. Whatever. Point being she could get pregnant. Now if they could just figure out the point of when?

They'd spent the last two days tying up lose ends and bonking each other silly. Being Ancient had its beanies. They were in-tuned with each other in a way other lovers weren't. That included head hopping, which they kept to a minimum. Personal space remained key. Now if they could just teach Cassandra to respect their privacy they'd have it made.

Sam still had deep regrets about being intimate with Pete. Mostly because she'd never expected to betray the sacred vows she and Jack had exchanged on Chulak. Yet she had. Were it not for her growing faith in the Keeper of the Stars, she'd never have experienced the ecstatic joy she now shared with Jack.

Sam could not imagine making love with anyone but Jack. What they shared was basic and emotional binding in ways she'd never dreamed. It defied logic. They'd also discovered more about their Ancient DNA sexual drives. Apart from when Sam monthly menstruated, they had sex daily usually more than once. Their physical need to bond as one, over-ruled fatigue and hunger. For the most part they started and ended each day making love. When such encounters weren't feasible, they met inside their minds or dreams. One didn't need phone sex when you could jump your husband's bones in his head, while he was um, in a Pentagon briefing. Of course, he had to excuse himself and rush to the closest men's room, where he proceeded to well, you know.

Whenever there was a full moon, Sam worried that indecent exposure or having sex in public would get them arrested. Man, the Broca virus had nothing on being an Ancient. When those primal urges and desires ruled, they literally disconnected phones, pagers, etc., and locked themselves up for the duration, together, of course.

Meanwhile, poor Cassandra had to deal. Sam suspected that when Cass returned to college, she would keep her grade average above par just so she didn't have to live with her sex crazed parents. Holidays being the exception.

Yeah, besides cleaning and packing they'd spent the day intimately saying farewell to each room of the house. Jack's idea. Less than two hours since she and Jack had made love, Sam felt the familiar pleasurable heat spiral into her neither region. Would she ever get enough of her man? She hoped not. Even if they didn't make love, they touched and kissed whenever possible. Who'd have thought, Jack O'Neill was a touchy feely guy?

According to Jack they had eight years of no touching to makeup for, and he had no problem trying. Even when they weren't mating like primates, Jack proved to be a gentle caring lover and husband. He still gave the best back and foot rubs and she returned the favor.

Far more funny was how they naturally gravitated toward each other. Being out of Jack's sight annoyed her. Despite her independent temperament, Sam had grown possessive of her husband and as he had of her. Another part of that Ancient bonding thingy. Sam hated to admit it, even to Jack, but she needed a multi-daily Jack fix, even if just to hear his voice or a lame joke.

Yeah, even when one of them wasn't in heat, their need to communicate through touch remained powerful. Another discovery. Ancient men went into a monthly heat. Insisting he was always horny, Jack preferred to not talk about the additional monthly sex drive added to his DNA. Sam loved it.

"_Jack?"_ She called out in her head as she left the bedroom and passed her former office, to glimpse Jack's clothes neatly folded in a pile. Before she could react—

"Gotcha!" He grabbed his wife by her hips and flung her gently to the floor then rolled on top of her, pinning his muscular thighs against her.

Sam grunted surprise and gazed up with a wicked smile. He snickered and kissed her sweetly, teasing her dry parted lips, nibbling her tongue. Sam's breath hitched. Dang the man was seducing her, again. Nope, the last time she'd been the seductress.

"My turn," his voice rumbled in her ear and he pressed the evidence of his need against her. Sam's natural response was to thrust upward and make firmer contact. She felt his heat through her jeans.

"One of us is overdressed." Jack brushed the hair off her face, while his free hand tugged her t-shirt from her waistband.

"Jack?" She wiggled beneath him.

"Whaat?" He trailed his cool fingertips along her rib cage.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Of you, never?"

"That's not what I meant?"

He dipped his head to her exposed belly and blew wet raspberries against her skin. Sam giggled as he proceeded to unzip her zipper. He had a one-track mind, but . . .

"Jack, we're supposed to meet General Landry at his house in an hour."

"Soo," he murmured as she cooperated and lifted her hips while he yanked her jeans down her legs.

"We'll just have to break our latest record." He tongued her belly button and . . .

Yep, they broke their latest record.

**Two hours later: General Hank Landry's backyard:**

Jack had been avoiding this work related social get-together. It's not that he didn't like hanging with Hank Landry, his hand selected replacement for heading up the SGC. He did. Just not on his vacation or the weekend. Weekends were precious to Jack. He spent them and most of the summer with Sam and Cass. Until now they'd rarely ventured back to the Springs because there were too many nosy noses. Jack had his fill of that in D.C. Then again, they'd needed to clean her house, as the new occupants were moving in next week. It'd been an interesting cleaning endeavor. He grinned, he had rug rash on his knees and butt.

Meanwhile, he and Hank went way back to Black Ops. Jack considered Hank one of his true oldest friends. Until Jack's first retirement, they'd been through hell and back for each other and had kept in contact over the years. Jack sat across from his buddy at the chessboard then glanced past Hank's shoulder to where Sam grilled burgers on Hank's outdoor grill. The fact he and Sam had managed to have a full week alone in the Springs caused his mouth to tug into a dimple. It felt like they were playing hooky.

"You're spying, Jack."

"Am not."

"Are too." Hank grinned around the mouth of his beer bottle. "Besides, what can she possible do to a couple of burgers and dogs?"

"You'd so don't wanna know." Jack groaned at the thought. When Sam waved the prongs at him, he lowered his voice. "Serious cooking isn't her forte." He winced. "Unless we're talking chocolate chip cookies or soufflés."

"And I think you just don't want her out of your sight." Hank challenged as he moved a rook.

"Yes, well, there's that." He forced his gaze to the chessboard pieces. Hank was winning. Crap.

"You said you're here to sign off on the house, car and bike. Didn't know you had a car or bike?" He stretched out in his chair.

"Oh, not my stuff, Sam's. Her house sold and she traded her Mustang for a Jeep. She's keeping the Indian and her pet _Vulva—"_

Hank sputtered around his bottle in laughter.

"What?" Jack annoying asked.

"It's _Volvo_, Jack." Hank dragged the back of his hand across his wet jaw and grinned.

"Whatever." Jack kept a straight face. He loved messing with Hank.

"Anyway, we parked them in my garage. I sold my 67 Harley to a collector. This old back can't take the shock factor anymore."

"Then you're keeping your house?"

"Look's that way. When my stint in D.C. is up we'd like to make Colorado Springs home. I'd thought to sell, but with the rising housing costs, we haven't found anything we like better. I promised Sam to build a second floor addition."

"You always were a closet weekend warrior, Jack, not to mention gardener. Sure you weren't a farmer in another life?"

"Anything's possible, Hank. Just like to work with my hands and get them dirty."

Hank nodded at his honesty. Jack recalled his time on Edora and how the simplistic lifestyle had suited his nature. Heck, he'd even taken delight sweating over an anvil, beating and shaping molten iron into nails.

"You're every woman's dream. I'm sure Sam's discovering something new about you everyday."

"Crap, I hope not." He guffawed. "We've got way too much history to have more surprises between us. I'm still in awe that she finds anything worthwhile in me, let alone to love or marry."

"You know I wondered that myself. But when I asked Sam—"

"You--you asked her?" Jack almost spewed his beer.

"Relax, buddy. We've spoken over the last few months. Nothing detailed." Hank smirked. "When it comes to your present relationship, Sam's tightlipped, let alone to talk with a superior officer. But your reservations confirmed what she said."

"Oy!" Jack looked at his friend.

"Samantha's nuts about your humility and self-defacing attitude. Not to mention you've gotten darn right cuter in your grumpy old age. She's really into your spiked gray hair and crater dimples."

"Why, Hank, are you hitting on me?" Jack snickered, glancing over at Sam.

"Her words, not mine."

"Thought so." Both laughed, which caused Sam to send them a suspicious glint.

'_Laughing at my expense, are we, General?'_

'_Nah. Never.' _He laughed inside his head. She scowled. Jack cleared his throat and then silence dangled between the men as he turned to safer ground, contemplating his next chess move.

"You know everyone thinks you sold your place and moved to D.C. And that Sam's in Nevada for good." He moved a rook and took a knight.

"Talk about a long distance relationship. Bit of a strain if you ask me."

"Far less a strain than working side-by-side for almost nine years and not acting on our feelings."

"Guess when you put it that way." Hank sighed and cocked a brow. "I give you both credit, old man. Don't know if I'd have handled it with as much dignity as you two have."

Jack let that remark go. He was tired of talking around the regs and the wasted years that could never be reclaimed. "Far as the house goes, let them think it's sold." He set his attention on the chessboard. _If I take his pawn, I can—_

"Why?"

"Huh? Oh, complicated." His right hand hovered over the pawn and he felt Hank's gaze linger on the silver wedding band of his index finger. Jack had no qualms wearing it off duty, nor did Sam. Let'm guess was his motto.

"Look, Jack, there's a lot I don't know and for that matter is none of my business—."

"Yep." Jack stated. "And as much as I trust ya, Hank, it's best for your sake and everyone else that you don't know."

Hank resisted Jack's efforts to sidetrack him. "The entire base figures you're together." He glanced at Sam and smiled. "And some are richer for that knowledge. Apparently a lot of bets were made about when you two would finally hookup."

"Crap!" Jack glared over his half bottle of beer.

"Like you didn't know." Hank waggled his bushy brows.

"Ya think?" he winked. "Actually the T'Man made over two-thousand bucks."

"Lucky Jaffa. Walter and Siler know you're an item."

"Hank, those guys know more than you do. They're loyal friends and continue to feed the rumor mill with false intel to protect us. Which is why they're in our wills." He chuckled, recalling when Siler showed up at Jack's front porch with file boxes of incriminating security tapes on his and Sam's closet rendezvous'.

"And I'm confused. Doctor Jackson explained about you and Sam being bonded as Ancients. You've told me about your Chulak marriage. So why don't you two just come clean and—"

"Coz, TPTB won't let us." Jack took Hank's pawn and grinned, as he closed in on that queen.

"Whatever for?"

"Politics, what else." Jack snorted. "They want us to wait a fricking year or more, and then do the whole military wedding. As if they're going to tell us what to do with our personal lives." He snorted. "And there's never to be any disclosure about Chulak or our Ancient bloodlines."

"I'm sorry, Jack. Um, how's Sam handling it?"

"The usual. Like a trooper. But she wants more kids." He looked over to see her dousing a sputtering flame with a bottle of beer. A smile twisted his lips. She'd learned from the best.

"And you, old man?" Jack heard the doubt in Hank's tone.

"Hey, I'm younger than you."

"Not by much. So, you want children this late in life?"

"Guess you'd think me nuts, if I say yes?" He dangled his bottle between his fingertips and smiled at Sam's backside while she blew on a crispy hotdog. _Man, she's hot._

"No. And by the shit-faced grin on your face it couldn't happen soon enough."

"Hank, you know about Cassandra and Charlie. I've been given a second chance to be a husband and a father. I don't intend to blow this one. Just wish there was a way around the time constraint to go public so we can get on with our lives."

"And I can't believe you, Jack O'Neill, agreed to such a ridiculous mandate."

"I wouldn't have, except, well it's multifarious."

Hank's eyes widened at Jack's use of a multi-syllable word. "So this isn't just about you and Sam?"

"No." He screwed up his face and closed his eyes. "Despite Kinsey being locked away as a Goa'uld, there are others who didn't want me to head up HWS, some, not even from Earth. If they had their way, I'd be vaporized by now."

"You've been threatened?" Hank gawked.

"Nothing new. But it's not me I'm worried about."

"Then retire. Get out and get a life. You deserve it."

"I can't. I need this _in_ to make certain things happen. For one, Charlie . . . um, Chuck is still under the snarkey Tok'ra's control. The only way I can get him home is to work back into their good graces."

"In other words, kiss their slimy butts."

"Yeah, which I hear you're already doing." He smiled approval.

"It is one of the reasons you selected me, Jack."

"Hey, I needed someone with diplomatic skills. You qualified. And I appreciate how quickly you've adapted to the weird job of managing the SGC."

"And, thankfully, you've left me with a very tight ship and the most competent people a commander could have the pleasure to serve with. George was right when he recommended you to head the SGC. I've got big shoes to fill Jack."

"That's how I felt when George left in both departments."

"Well, as respectful and nice as they are to me, they miss you, Jack. I wonder why you didn't stay."

He screwed up his face and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, right. Personal reasons."

"Besides, it was the only way to get my chair back." Jack snickered only to realize Hank was clueless and the dense look on his weathered features confirmed that. "Long story. Another time." He sniffed.

"Okay, so back to your procreation issue. I'd say screw TPTB. Do the politically correct thing. Get pregnant then get married."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, figures that they'd be just fine with that. Whatever happened to old-fashioned values? How come it's okay to shack up out of marriage and get pregnant, but heaven forbid, you get married first. Folks look at you like you've sprouted horns."

"Not everyone. There are some of us who still think it's the proper way, I for one. And I'm glad you got hitched on Chulak." The men shared an understanding look.

"Sorry. It's just leaving the SGC and disbanding SG-1 has been rough. We thought it'd allow us a normal life. Instead, we're sneaking around like teenagers."

"Which reminds me." Hank held up a finger.

Jack's brows did a caterpillar dance across his forehead.

"I meant the SGC. Cameron Mitchell wants to reform SG-1 with the original team."

"Yep. He called me."

"What'd you tell him?"

"Probably the same thing you did. You have my blessings, son. But I doubt it'll happen. Sam already told him no. She felt bad. They've been friends since Academy. She wanted to explain about us. She told him she had her reasons for accepting the post at Area 51."

"Yeah, Mitchell took it hard. Teal'c is happy being on the Jaffa High Council. Although he's respectful, I suspect when he compares Cameron to you, the poor kid comes up short."

"Ah, Teal'c just needs time to adjust; once he does, he'll be fine. When I make my visit to Dakara, next week. I'll make some subtle hints."

"You subtle? Hardly," Hank snorted, "But rather you than me, I'm still not sure where I stand with Teal'c. Not like I can order him around."

"Chill, Hank. He likes you, said you reminded him of Hammond and little of myself."

"That's nice to know," he blew out. "Of course, Daniel is hot to trot about going to Atlantis."

"I wish he'd stay." Jack mumbled.

"Who?"

"Daniel."

"Jack, you've denied him this chance several times already. Besides, Doctor Weir requested him."

"I know." He pouted.

"Hey, you can't keep him tied to your apron strings forever."

"Sure can. I'm not you, Hank."

"No. And Daniel's not my brother."

"Never said he was," Jack defensively snapped.

"Nope. Daniel did. He loves you, Jack."

"He told you that?" Jack's jaw slackened.

"Hell no. But it's obvious. Besides he's a grown man and needs to make his own decisions."

"You've been talking to Sam?" He leaned back in his chair and frowned.

"Of course, he has." She sauntered over with a plate full of burgers and hot dogs, at least that's what they'd been twenty minute ago. Jack's winced at the charred meat. Yep, she'd learned from the best for sure.

"Clear the table, sirs."

"We're off duty and I'm not a sir today, Sam." Hank smiled then stared at the plate she'd set beside the chessboard. Dismissing their scowls, she reached into the paper bag beside Jack for the buns, chips and condiments.

"Um, Sam, Hon?" Jack pushed away from the table.

"What?" She peered at him suspiciously.

"How 'bout we take Hank up on his offer for lunch at O'Malley's."

"You mean the offer I accepted, but you refused because you wanted to grill out and . . ." She followed their disturbed gazes to the smoldering platter of charcoal. "Oh." She smiled.

"They don't look that bad." Hank's phone beeped. "Just a minute." He answered, "Oh hi, Walter. Who's IDC? No way. Under no conditions do you open the gate for her. Tell Doctor Jackson to keep his pants on. I'll be right there. Bye."

"Well?" Jack quirked a brow at Hank and Sam did likewise.

"Oh, remember Vala Mal Doran—"

"Who could forget?" Sam grinned winking at Jack.

"Apparently she's dropped into the Alpha site and insists on seeing Doctor Jackson."

"Don't—!" Jack insisted. "Last time she abducted the Prometheus and kidnapped Daniel. Almost beat him to a bloody pulp."

"I know. He also described her as a —"

"Flake." Jack snorted.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'll have the Alpha SF's make sure she's clean, two of SG-12 just gated over to escort her."

"Make sure to wash her mouth out with soap." Sam offered with a giggle.

"Huh?" The generals exchanged looks before glancing at her.

"Um, Daniel said she has a potty mouth and is obsessed with sex."

"Really? He never told me that." Jack shifted mischievously.

"Because I asked him not to. She also thinks you're the hottest

General she's ever laid eyes on and would jump your bones no time flat if given the chance."

"Wow." He delivered his boyish pout then winked. "I'm flattered. I think."

"Great! A horny alien who steals flag ships!" Hank snorted.

"Ah such are the perks of commanding the SGC." Jack snorted.

"You're really enjoying this." Hank observed as his mouth tugged downward.

"Yeah sure yabetcha."

"Well, sorry about calling our lunch short, but we'll try this again, next time. And Jack, don't you move those chess pieces."

"Don't worry, Hank," he winked. "They've got magnets."

**SGC Briefing Room 0130 Hours: **

"I assume tardiness is not one of Doctor McKay's bad habits?" General Hank Landry folded his hands and looked at Doctor Weir's anxious expression, then Colonel Sheppard's tense features.

"Oh, plezze, sir," John Sheppard breathed out, "McKay's so anal he sleeps with an egg timer."

"Really?" Hank tilted his head.

Elizabeth Weir rolled her pretty eyes. "What Colonel Sheppard's trying to say is, that Rodney is never late for anything of importance, sir."

"That involves him," John muttered.

Weir shot Sheppard another sharp look. "Returning to Atlantis is the most important thing in Doctor McKay's life. All personnel were to check in five days in advance for their follow-up physicals and data meetings. Rodney was also to greet the newest members to his physics team. He's failed on both accounts and doesn't answer his phone or pager."

"Is there some reason I wasn't informed of this missing person before, Doctor Weir?" Hank rubbed his aching temples and wished he were on his deck playing chess with Jack, drinking beer, and chowing down on Colonel Carter's burnt burgers. First, Vala Meddlesome arrived and slapped a matching set of life-threatening wristbands on herself and Doctor Jackson. Now Doctor McKay had gone AWOL. What next?

"Because this was my problem, not yours, General." Elizabeth Weir insisted meeting his vexed gaze.

"Might I remind you, Doctor, that anything that involves the SGC falls under my dominion and is my problem."

"I'm sorry, sir. With this being Rodney, I'd assumed something as simplistic as a flat tire. He might be brilliant but not with simple things."

"You can say that again." John annoyingly tapped a pencil against the desk.

"Obviously, it wasn't simple." Hank glanced at his watch then back at the antsy young colonel, who so reminded him of another former colonel, that it was uncannily frightening. Probably the hair or the mouth, or—

Weir flinched and drew a solemn breath. No doubt she was worried about her missing team member. Despite his sarcasm, Sheppard didn't look much better. Hank knew they'd all grown close this last year. Hank better than anyone understood the family bond a cohesive team formed.

"Okay, I'll inform Colonel Caldwell the Daedalus' departure will be delayed. The window will stay open an additional forty-eight hours. Which gives us five days to find McKay. That's as long as I can put the flight off. I'll contact Agent Barrett at the NID and have the FBI put out an all points bulletin. Now tell me where he was last seen?"

"Six days ago at Nellis AFB, Nevada, sir." John shared.

Hank balked.

"Rodney's private about his life, General." Weir explained. "And he was on leave, after all."

Hank nodded and felt an approaching migraine. He wondered if this was another reason Jack had jumped ship. This job was a royal pain in the—

"General?" Weir shared, "According to Nellis base security, Rodney requested Colonel Carter's home address, and no one's heard from him since. That was five days ago."

Hank scowled and glanced at his watch. 2320 hours. "I just spoke with Colonel Carter this afternoon. She never mentioned seeing McKay, but then that wasn't the topic of conversation. I'll contact her and see what I can learn. Meanwhile, Colonel, I'll assign you SG-4 and 6 to help find him."

"We appreciate this, General." Elizabeth stood and turned to take her leave.

"It's what we do." Hank inwardly snickered recalling Jack's line. "You know Colonel Caldwell is going to blow a gasket." He stood to see them to the door.

"Ya think?" The Lieutenant Colonel rolled his eyes. "He's just looking for a reason to carp."

"John!" Weir softly reprimanded.

"Um, sorry, sir." Sheppard offered but his eyes said he wasn't. He sent Weir an exasperated look that could only be shared with someone he felt comfortable. Hank wondered just how comfortable they were with each other. Hum?

"We're still working on team dynamics, General, aren't we, John?" She tugged his right forearm.

"Look, Sheppard." Time for a hand slap Hank decided. "You better realize that were it not for my requesting General O'Neill's intervention, you wouldn't have been promoted, let alone still command the Atlantis troops. In other words, O'Neill likes you. Maybe because you're a lot like him including your brassy mouth." That made John flinch. "There's a difference of course, General O'Neill knows when to utilize his smart lip and when to shut it."

"Yes, sir!" John stood at attention. "I've personally thanked General O'Neill for the promotion and will prove my worth and keep my mouth shut, sir."

"That's all well and good, however . . ."

John's features slackened when Hank continued.

"You're right. Caldwell's an asshole but he's damned good at his job. He also has high mucky-muck friends. And he's just itching to prove you're a liability to the Atlantis project. This recent event in which you've managed to displace a key member of your team won't go unnoticed by the man."

"I will find Doctor McKay, sir."

"You do that, son."

Nodding, he closed the door as they left through the empty Briefing Room. Hank glanced out the window to see they'd halted at the stair landing. Despite the serious situation of Doctor Mckay being AWOL, they shared a private smile and spoke with a look he'd seen exchanged between another couple by the names of O'Neill and Carter. Well, whatcha know? He shut the window shades and then dialing Jack's home phone, started to grin and hum, _Que sera sera. _

**0145 Hours:**

Her cell phone rang. At least, Sam thought that's what had awakened her. Then it went silent. Um, err! Sam tried to move, but couldn't. She reasoned that Jack had sprawled across her like he so often did, the big lug. They rarely slept without spooning or touching one another. It'd been that way before they married, and the need to be in close proximity, had grown stronger since their Ancient bonding.

Still she needed her beauty sleep. Heck, she wanted to say farewell to the crew of the Daedalus before it departed in, oh, less than six hours, if her internal clock was right. Jack had to fly back to D.C. and then she'd drive to Nevada. Another week, another dollar. Another week a-part. Dang!

Sam squirmed and tried to slip out from beneath Jack's intrusive weight, but failed. _Well, try and get comfortable, Sam._ Nope, she reasoned, I'll slug him. That usually worked. When she attempted to move her arms, nothing happened.

"_Jack, get off!" she said in her head. _

Nothing. Not even an O'Neill mutter or grunt. Something was wrong. She opened her eyes to find herself enveloped in darkness and no Jack. She couldn't move. Trying not to panic, she reasoned it was a bad dream, that she was experiencing the REM dream state when one's body felt paralyzed. She forced her heart to calm down and took deep cleansing breaths. Strange, breathing didn't bother. It felt real. She tried to move. Something tugged her.

She focused and screamed out Jack's name. But the scream never left her lips. Duct tape restrained her mouth.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Wearing a hazard facemask Pete Shanahan smiled at her and then Sam's world went black.

_Sam?_ Jack swore she'd called out telepathically. He attempted to roll over but failed as his body refused to cooperate. He sniffed. Something smelled foul. The gas stove? No. The odor seemed dangerously familiar. Then there was nothing . . .

Engine noise and a soft rolling motion awoke Sam from deep-drugged slumber. Drugged, being the operative word. When she rolled onto her side, she realized her restraints were gone. Her location though, remained a mystery. Head pounding like a brass band she glanced around the quarters and determined she was on a sailing vessel. How and why she'd no idea. At first, she thought she'd been dreaming. Jack had mentioned a few times how he loved to sail and one day they'd go cruising.

But she'd remember getting here? The last she recalled was her and Jack in bed making love. Their Ancient bond stronger than ever not to mention, the full moon, but she felt no such desires heating her loins, just cold fear.

Sitting up slowly, she swung her legs over the berth, and just avoided clunking her head on the berth above her. That's when it registered. This was no ocean sailing vessel. It was a Goa'uld Ha'tak.

**You gotta be kidding:**

"Who's there?" Jack squirmed in the dark tight confines. Although unrestrained, there wasn't much stretching room.

"Hey, stop kicking!" A familiar grating voice returned.

"McKay?"

"Yeah."

"How the h—?" Jack tried to rationalize what had happened and why of all people Rodney McKay hogged the space.

"My exact sentiments, General."

"Where are we?"

"Heck if I know. A Goa'uld ship, I think."

"Ya think?"

"Hey, all I know is one minute I was leaving Sam's apartment—."

"Our apartment," Jack reiterated.

"Spare me the semantics, General."

"Whatever." Jack squirmed. "You were saying?"

"I was walking down the sidewalk toward my rental car, when this guy walked up and asked whether I was a friend of Sam's."

Rodney wiggled and that's when Jack realized the scientist's butt cakes were smack against his face. Ah, crap!

"I said, yes. Then he said he was her fiancé, which I found amusing. Apparently, he didn't. Next I knew he shot me with a zat. I woke up here, only there was a lot more room—And you?"

Jack had been making love to Sam then, "Doesn't matter."

"I meant how'd you get here?"

"I got nothing."

"This is weird."

"Hey, you do realize that you visited us last week?"

"Don't think so. I just woke up. Although I'm light headed and starved."

"Whatever." Jack sniffed and gagged. McKay smelled like he'd been crated-up for an entire week.

"You didn't explain how you got here?"

"Oh, I inhaled a strange odor and then nothing but this monster headache. Sam! Where's she?"

"Don't know."

Jack reached out to her mentally and hit a brick wall. Something alien separated them. For a brief moment Nirrti's ugly face loomed in his mind's eye. _Ridiculous. After all, Nirrti's dead._

Rodney wiggled and his butt pressed tighter to Jack's scrunched face.

Jack cursed, causing Rodney to freeze.

"Um, are you like behind me, O'Neill?"

His irate rebuttal met Rodney's derriere.

The physicist shifted his hips and allowed Jack breathing room.

Just before he inhaled, Doctor Rodney McKay—farted!


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Readers: I apologize for the long wait. Life has been hectic. But I appreciate your patience and encouragement for me to finish this novella. It's almost complete. The first three chapters have been revised to accommodate improvements in the established plot. I hope you enjoy the rest of this novella.

Jack and Sam hugs,

HailDorothy

CHAPTER FOUR 

SGC: General Landry's office:

When it rains it pours . . . and it wasn't pennies from Heaven. Hank would have given his eyetooth for a miracle. Like Jack he was a man of faith but right now any faith in the _Man_ upstairs stood on shaky ground.

Alien wristbands physiologically coupled Doctor Jackson and Vala Mal Doran. To say that Jackson wasn't thrilled about being hooked up with Vala in any fashion or form was an understatement. The only other worse case scenario Hank could imagine would have been Jack and Vala. Oh yeah, with Carter purposely planted between them - - Hank shook off that nightmarish vision fast.

Anyhow the couple had successfully found the treasures of mythical Avalon and now were unconscious in the infirmary after getting touchy feely with Ancient technology. Less than hour ago Vala almost died. And even if Jackson survived this, he might miss the Daedalus' departure for Atlantis, which was counting down. And still no sign of Doctor McKay. Not to mention, neither Jack nor Sam had returned the messages he'd left on their cell phones, regarding McKay.

Almost midnight, Hank sent Teal'c to Jack's house. His old buddy would be royally pissed if Teal'c walked in on an intimate moment between Jack and Sam. Well, rather Teal'c than some SF.

And now a worried, Colonel Mitchell occupied Hank's opened office doorway. The poor kid. Hank waved him in. The phone rang as Cameron took a seat and tried to act professional cool.

"Landry here."

"It is I, Teal'c."

"Good. What do you have, Teal'c?"

"I fear neither O'Neill nor Samantha occupy their house. Their vehicles are in the garage with their luggage packed and the house doors are locked and dead-bolted from the inside. It would appear they were in bed during their abduction . . ." Teal'c cleared his throat.

Any other time, Hank would have smiled, but Teal'c's grave tone revealed the Jaffa's personal concern.

"General, the interior house lights were in use. O'Neill is very efficient about such things, as is Samantha. Furthermore, their cell phones are on the bedside table."

"Any evidence of a struggle?"

"No."

"Then you believe they were abducted and transported by alien technology?"

"Of that I am certain, General Landry. I would suggest you contact the Asgard, although if they are with Thor, we would have heard by now . . ."

Hank listened further and felt his gut knot up. "Okay, Teal'c, return to base. I'll call the Pentagon, check with NORAD and have Walter send a SOS to the Asgard." He hung up, rubbing the back of his aching neck and stared at the curious Cameron.

"Sir?" the younger officer braved and stepped forward.

Wearily, Hank dropped into his chair. "I haven't slept in thirty hours, Mitchell. First Jackson and Vala Mal Doran become Siamese twins, Doctor Rodney McKay is AWOL and now General O'Neill and Colonel Carter are missing."

"Holy shit!" Cameron gawked. "I mean, that's not good, sir."

"Yeah, welcome to my world, Mitchell. You still sure you want to be apart of this off-the-wall unit?"

"Yes, sir." He looked emphatic.

"So how's Doctor Jackson and Mal Doran?"

"Stable, but we don't know for how long. Doctor Lam's still clueless. Doctor Lee's fiddling with the Ancient communication device and—"

"In other words no progress?"

"No, sir." Mitchell shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. A moment drifted between them. "Sir, do you think, there's a possible connection with the General, Colonel, and McKay's disappearances?"

"Don't know." Hank poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Cameron. "But more than likely."

"Thank you, sir." Cameron accepted the hot drink and took a sip. "Sam and I have been good friends since Academy."

"I know, son."

"I mean really good friends," he said softly and approached Hank's desk with a conspirator's expression.

"Really?" Hank's brows touched. "And that means?"

"Sam and I dated a few times but there was no chemistry. We've stayed friends - - confidants you might say. And along with yourself I am one of the few who know she and General O'Neill are romantically involved."

"I see." Hank stared into his coffee.

"So, I'd like—"

"Before you ask the answer is no, son."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, Mitchell."

"But there's little I can do in the infirmary. I'd like to help find her and General O'Neill."

"That's commendable of you, Colonel, but as head of SG-1 you're needed here with your team."

"Forgive me, sir, but there is no SG-1."

"Not according to General O'Neill."

"Really?" Cameron gawked.

"Yes." They held each other's gaze until Cameron's lips twitched, which caused Hank to smile.

"Dismissed, Colonel."

"Yes, sir." Grinning, Cameron wavered at the doorway then sobered.

"Go to your team, son. I'll keep you apprised." Hank looked up from the red phone he'd brought to his ear.

"Yes, sir. I appreciate that."

Despite their depressive circumstances, Hank heard Mitchell whistle as he headed back to the infirmary and for a moment, Hank smiled.

In A Galaxy Far, Far Away:

"Hi, Sam."

Definitely a Goa'uld speaking to her, Sam recoiled in pain. Her head felt like a jackhammer kissing concrete, the concrete being her head. Still she tried to reach her husband. '_Jack, can you hear me?'_ Zip. Nada. It seemed as if a telepathic force field separated them.

She jerked upright, no longer in the berth but an open area surrounded by a raised seating area and a blue shimmering wall of light. The cushioned floor beneath her was a wall-to-wall mattress. Bile shot up her throat. No! Not again!

"You remember?" the voice echoed around her. This time it wasn't Goa'uld but alarmingly familiar. Sam shook the absurd thought from her head. Standing unsteadily, she found herself dressed in standard green SG-1 BDU's. How?

"Want you back in regular mode, Major. Oh, I'm sorry, Sam. You were promoted to Lieutenant Colonel after I took that fatal staff weapon blast on—"

"Jaa-net?" Sam forced out with astonishment.

"Hi, Sam." Her hands shoved into the pockets of her lab coat, Janet Fraiser strolled forward from the shadows, her black pumps clicking against the ship's floor. She wore her Air Force Blue's skirt and standard white buttoned down blouse. Her collar length hair was reddish brown with the blonde highlights Sam had given her a few weeks before her death.

Sam shut her eyes in disbelief and then opened them. The petite woman remained in the familiar Fraiser stance smiling at her. Sam knew this couldn't be her Janet. Janet Fraiser had died and was buried in the community cemetery at Colorado Springs and—

"It's really me, Sam." Janet walked up to her. "I've missed you so much." The pretty petite woman tilted her head, her brown eyes full sadness, or so it appeared.

"You're not here. Janet died from a staff weapon wound almost two years ago. You're a figment of my imagination and this nasty headache I've got."

"Don't think so." Janet held up a small gadget, aimed it at the force field. The wall of blue light vanished. "And sorry about the headache. But for your own safety it was necessary to medicate you."

"Whatever." Sam snorted like her better half and worried if Jack was okay. Dear God, she hoped so.

"Sam, I'm very much alive. With no small thanks to the Asgard intervention."

"But your body, we buried you?"

"Nope. Empty casket. Didn't Jack or General Hammond tell you?"

Sam began to shake with anger at the thought Jack would withhold this from her.

"Oh, that's a shame." Janet sighed out with a regretful tone. "I suppose they didn't want to disappoint you, Daniel, and Teal'c if Loki failed. I mean, I'd been dead over forty-eight hours so the chances of my DNA . . . "

"Loki?" Sam swallowed hard.

"Yes. Bless his little gray heart. After the O'Neill clone incident, Loki had been put on probation. In other words, he couldn't play mad scientist. And if Thor had found out that he'd taken my remains, well General O'Neill would be in deep trouble. Well, not that Thor would ever harm him but - -"

"Enough!" Sam shouted in anger and defiance.

"I was simply explaining." Janet shrugged her shoulders in the way she'd done for years.

Sam closed her eyes a moment and stretched her neck. She opened her eyes and asked matter-of-factly, "You're a clone?"

"As much as I hate that word, yes. The molecular structure of my original body had broken down and Loki did what he could. Unfortunately there were a few adjustments needed. But everything appears in working order." She gave herself a look over and smiled riley.

"So why haven't you returned home? Why am I a prisoner on a Goa'uld ship and where's Jack?"

"Jack?" Janet grinned and entered the cushioned circle where Sam stood with her fists clenched at her sides. "Sam, you've no idea how long I've waited to hear you refer to him that way. Gosh, I've missed a lot haven't I? SG-1's disbanded. Jack promoted to Major General in under two years and head of Home World Security. Now there's a huge feat even for him. And you." She gestured, "You've grown your hair out a bit. Bet Jack likes that. And you're literally running Area 51."

Speechless, Sam gaped as Janet ran on like a broken record but accurately sizing up the last eighteen months of being deader than a doorknob, packed on ice, pushing up daisies, six-feet under . . .Whatever. She swore Jack was talking in her head.

"How's Daniel? Gosh, I miss him, Sam. I often think of what we could have had together. But he never looked at me that way, did he?" She looked close to tears.

"Yes he did." Sam found herself sharing. "You just didn't give him a chance."

"You could be right. I ignored his puppy dog looks and turned down his invitations for a real date. If only we'd . . .Oh, how's Teal'c? Still, okay with the Tretion medication? And the Jaffa are now free because of his vigilance and he's part of the Jaffa World Council."

She rattled on, "And my dear daughter, Cassandra. Is she handling things okay? I mean my up and dying wasn't on her agenda. But then it's probably for the best, I mean you and Jack being her real parents—."

"Gotcha!" Sam proudly announced taking a step forward. Trying to get a better look at the woman who claimed to be her deceased best friend and the sister she'd never had. "Janet did not know the truth about Cassandra's birth parents."

"Oh, but I did." Janet reached to touch her, but Sam took a purposeful step back. Janet's pretty face took on an a melancholy expression Sam had often seen in the MO's eyes before. "Remember when we held Nirrti prisoner and blackmailed her to help save Cassandra from the retro virus?"

"Sure." Sam acknowledged.

"Well, after I threatened her with the pistol, just before General Hammond, you and the Colonel arrived, she'd told me the truth. About how she'd experimented on you and Jack to create the perfect Hok Taur. However, she promised that if I let her take Cassandra she'd not harm Cass. Even promised to take me along. Of course, she'd just wanted my knowledge of the Tau'ri's physical anatomy. I knew she lied about guaranteeing our safety."

"You could be making this up?"

"You doubt me. You think I'm Goa'uld?"

"The thought crossed my mind."

"Sam, if I were Goa'uld you'd know it. You'd sense the Naquadrah."

Sam drew a deep sigh of acknowledgement. Janet or whoever she claimed to be was right. Sam sensed no Naquadrah. Not a whiff. But Sam had been fooled before. She recalled the incident two years prior when the Goa'uld took over an entire town. And then there was the Seer Goa'uld who'd invaded the female Kelownan scientist Jonas had fallen in love with. Sam never detected a thing. Sam's instincts were fallible. She reasoned this imposter could be wearing a mimic badge, camouflaging his/her identity. But then the real Janet would have to be alive for that to work. Another thought surfaced.

"Why did you abduct me?"

"So we could talk. See each other." Tears wet Janet's eyes.

Sam inhaled remembering Janet's favorite hair shampoo had been peach scented. Darned if that's not what she smelled. Then again, perhaps she wanted this so much that her subconscious was working overtime. She decided to play along.

"Convinced, Sam?"

"Okay, so you're Doctor Janet Fraiser. But you could have come home, Janet." She cocked her head a bit trying to comprehend. "I mean look how many times, Daniel's died and ascended."

"It's not that easy. First off, I'm not an Ancient. Secondly, I can't go home, yet. I've a promise to keep. Just trust me will you?"

Sam gave her best convincing smile. No way, would she let down her guard and trust her best dead friend.

In A Deep Freezer Nearby:

Jack's head felt like rigged C4, ready to explode. Of course being upside down in a freezer compartment had that affect on one's body. The blood had rushed to his head and not the one he preferred. At least their abductor hadn't switched the freezer on, which meant they wanted him and Rodney thawed, for now.

"Move over, McKay."

"Hey, I'm trying. And did I mention I've got to pee?" He groused and slid an inch in the opposite direction.

"Yes and hold it, wilya?" Jack finally got his numb fingers on the latch—the door opened and they toppled out.

"Hey!" McKay exclaimed while he hit the hard floor. "How'd you—?"

"Shush!" Jack shook the aches from his coiled muscles, yanked McKay back alongside the freezer and then quietly shut the unit's door."

How the heck did they end up on Jacob's scout ship? Hadn't it been shot down four years back? A single wall torch lit the sealed transport room, indicating a Goa'uld possessed the ship.

"How long ya been here?" he stretched his legs and shook them to regain blood flow.

The scientist unclenched his jaw and rested his head against the wall. "Don't know. Until you showed I'd been unconscious. You said it's been five days since you saw me. I've only been awake a few hours and shit! I'm going to miss the flight to Atlantis."

"Ya think?" Jack groused and glanced at his green BDU's and the eagle insignia on his shoulder. Someone either had a warped sense of humor or was out of the loop. Not a star to be had.

"So where we are?" Rodney pulled his knees to his chest.

"A former Tok'ra Tel'tak, but where - - I've got nothing."

"What's an upright freezer doing on a Goa'uld vessel?"

"This was Jacob and Selmak's ship."

"And?" McKay urged with that patronizing voice Jack loathed and ignored.

"Let's do a walk about." He shoved to his feet while his knees and back rebelled. He offered McKay his hand.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but if you must pee."

"I must." Rodney accepted Jack's grip, came to an unsteady stance and let go as he spotted a small container.

"Yeah I know that feelings. A few years back, I went an entire week without," he shuddered remembering the time Loki had abducted him. A moment later the pungent odor reached his nostrils and he hoped whoever was on the opposite side of the door didn't smell urine.

"What a relief." Rodney let out as he zipped up and turned back to Jack. "Now what?"

"The helm's just outside and probably manned." He stepped into the shadows and felt his way around the familiar room. "Bingo." He lifted the lid to a crate and found it loaded with zats.

"We could probably ring out of here." Rodney indicated the central transport base.

"To where?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"Well, guess that'd be the problem."

"Yes it would." He gingerly handed over one weapon as to not make contact with Rodney's unwashed hands. "I assume you know how to use this."

"I've been on Atlantis for eight months in hair-raising situations you could never fathom - -,"

Jack glared the arrogant man down.

"Then again, I'm sure you've seen it all." Rodney gulped. "And yes, I've become a crack shot."

"Nice." He noted how Rodney now stood in the middle of the transport rings. "So you wanna be the hero or stoolie?"

"Hero of course." He puffed out his chest.

"Great. Yell for attention." Jack pressed back against the wall and aimed his zat at the sealed door.

"Hey, you tricked me!" Rodney bellowed waving his zat like an irate brat.

The door opened to reveal two Jaffa guards with their staff weapons aimed at Rodney. One Jaffa fired the faint but effective warning flare.

Before Rodney injection, Jack fired his zat and the guards toppled in front of them.

"You're an ass, O'Neill." Rodney ranted while Jack hurried and grabbing a Jaffa by the boots started to drag him toward the freezer.

"Ya ever notice how hard it is to find good help nowadays?" Jack indicated the other guard. "Like, give me hand wilya?"

Swearing, Rodney helped disarm the guards and stuff them into the freezer. A few minutes later the men had donned the Jaffa's uniforms. Rodney's was too large and Jack's too small, but they managed and placed the helmets on their heads to conceal their faces.

"Hey what kind of Jaffa are these?" McKay pointed to the jackal-faced mask he wore and then Jack's bird face. "And I thought the Jaffa rebelled and won."

"Dog and bird," said Jack as if that were obvious. He caught the scientist's thin-mouthed scowl. "And yes, most Jaffa no longer serve the Goa'uld. Although, some minor system lordlings still hang about the Milky Way water cooler talking shop. Just haven't seen any misfit Jaffa since Nirrti died." That worried him. Of course Nirrti was dead. He'd watched Woden snap her neck like a twig three years back.

"So's there any chance if we get through this, and I miss my flight you can book me on the next ship to Atlantis? I mean they depend on me and --"

"For cryin' out loud, zip your lips, McKay!" Jack whispered.

"Hey, I was just asking?"

"Ask Landry," he hissed as they left the transport room and stepped into the Ha'tek's helm with Jack taking the lead. "And watch who you're giving the finger too." Another bonus from being an Ancient.

Rodney coughed or was that choked?

Jack inwardly smirked then, "Crap! Whatcha know?" he waved at the helm's transom. "That explains why we didn't feel flight motion."

"We're on a mothership!" Rodney blanched.

"Yep and," then the vessel dropped out of hyperspace. "We're so not in Kansas." Jack shut his eyes until his stomach settled.

"I hate that." McKay muttered, holding his midsection.

"Yeah. C'mon, let's find out who's hosting this reunion and locate Sam."

"You think she's here?" Rodney sounded concerned. No doubt about it, the irritating genius was wacko about his wife. "Yes. Now that we're out of the freezer, I can sense her and--."

Rodney gawked.

Jack back-peddled. "I mean you know that couple's connection thingy."

"No. But if you say so." The scientist didn't seem convinced.

Jack cautiously led them out of the Tel'tak and across the large unmanned landing bay that held two Al'kesh and four death gliders. Whoever ran this shoddy operation was low on manpower, ships and hopefully weapons.

And Eventually:

They made good time. Ten minutes later, they'd not seen one Jaffa let alone Goa'uld.

"I'm hot," Rodney complained. "If I miss my ride to Atlantis someone's head's going to roll. While I take this straight to the head of HWS!"

Jack glanced over his shoulder and displayed his best intimidating glint. "That'd be me, McKay."

"Um, right. Sorry." Rodney gulped.

Holding his tongue, Jack opened his mind searching for Carter.

'Sam, you here?'

'Jack?'

'Yeah, where are you, babe?'

'You wouldn't believe me,' she muttered in his head.

'Try me?'

'On Nirrti's mothership.'

'I figured the ship part. We're here too.'

'We? Cassandra?'

'No. They abducted McKay.'

'Why?' she sounded perplexed.

'Beats me, and he's driving me nuts.'

'Sorry,' she sighed.

'So you alright?'

'For now.'

'What level are you on?'

'Third, I think. In um, the mating chamber.'

'You gotta be kidding?'

'No. And you wouldn't believe who else is here?'

Their connection crackled like a broken phone line.

"Well, well, I wondered how long it'd take you to escape?"

Jack spun around too late. Before the zat's electric shock hit him, he saw Pete Shanahan's grinning face. Crap!


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Jack?" Sam shook her husband soundly.

"Ooow." He gripped his head and squinted up at her. "We gotta stop meeting like this, Dorothy."

"Yes, Scarecrow." She smiled and helped him sit upright. Jack caressed her face, then slid his hands the length of her making sure she was in one piece.

For an unprofessional moment Sam leaned into him and shuddered, but this wasn't sexual, this was fear. He murmured in her ear, "Hey, we'll get out of this, Hon, believe me."

"You two are sick," said Rodney while he shoved to his feet.

"What?" Jack rolled his aching shoulders and looked curiously at the scientist.

"Spare me a show and tell of your kinky love life, General."

"Get your head out of the gutter, McKay." Jack shot to his feet and lorded over the man. "Or would you rather I shove your self-glorified brains further up your--?"

"Jack?" Sam implored calmly. "We've got bigger problems." She motioned to the opening door of the chamber.

Four Jaffa in diverse uniforms marched in with staff weapons aimed and ready to fire.

**Oy! IT NEVER GETS OLD:**

"Kel mek, kree tak!" A Jaffa ordered Jack.

"Baal's gofer, right?" Jack indicated the Jaffa's forehead brand.

"It would appear so, sir." Sam shrugged alongside him. "But he's the first of Baal's subordinates I've seen on this ship."

"Well that doesn't make me feel warm and fuzzy. Looks like we got a Jaffa smorgasbord."

"And well armed," McKay pointedly reminded.

"Same old, same old," Jack yawned.

"Is he always so recklessly facetious?" Rodney nervously scowled at Sam.

"Yes," she said as Jack's handsome face pinched with confusion. "It means--,"

"Tongue in cheek, Carter." He winked, ignoring Rodney and their hosts. "I know."

"Kree!" The Jaffa jabbed Jack with the butt of his staff weapon.

Jack stifled a grunt of pain. "Yoo hoo to you to, Spanky." Minus his Jaffa bird helmet he adapted his feigned look of ignorant bliss and took a step toward the armed Jaffa. "Say you guys really should touch base in the morning and confirm you're all making the same fashion statement. You look like you shopped at a Star Wars Convention, the only one missing is that little greenish guy, um . . ." He hiked his scared eyebrow at Sam.

"Yoda," she said with a restrained smile.

"Yep, that's the one." He snapped his fingers and walked closer to the head honcho.

"Korush-nai! The angry Jaffa shoved his weapon in Jack's face and the weapon flickered as the guard switched off the safety.

"Step back? Fine. However, I'm all for individuality – expressing oneself." He eased the staff weapon's muzzle from his face.

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Sam muffled a laugh. She loved her husband's comical bravado. Although the pallor on Rodney's face indicated he wasn't confident about Jack's sarcastic wit saving their hides. In all honesty, neither was she.

Another Jaffa entered the chamber and looked them over with distain, before glaring at Jack. "You are the one called, O'Neill?"

"Well I'm called a lot of things, but—" He smiled at Sam, who had donned her military mask, but rolled her eyes.

"My master demands your audience." The Jaffa stated.

"Well, that just peachy. But I didn't get a handwritten invitation . . ."

"Oh, for the love of money, yes, he's O'Neill!" Rodney snarled. "Now can we get past with the modus operandi?"

"You dare interrupt me?" Jack turned his back on the Jaffa and faced the Atlantis scientist and Sam. Jack's hands made deliberate signals Sam knew all too well.

"I dare." Rodney kept up the banter and nodded when he recognized Jack's tactical sign language.

"Why you sniveling piece of . . ." Jack swung around, grabbed the Jaffa's staff weapon and fired, then turned the weapon on the other guard, while Rodney tackled the third but got zatted.

Sam got hold of a staff weapon, only to get kicked in the ribs and fell back hitting her head. Jack felt the next zat blast and toppled to his knees in excruciating pain. Two more Jaffa charged the room. His last thoughts were, he should have used plan B.

**FROM ONE SNAKE TO ANOTHER:**

Although her vision was blurred Sam eventually came around. Her head felt like a split melon. She hated being on the receiving end of a zat blast.

"That was a stupid thing to do." Janet knelt over her with a cold compress.

"We haven't access to an operational sarcophagus."

"I really don't care." Sam yanked the compress from her hand and shoved back against the ship's wall. "Who are you?"

"Hey, it's me, Janet."

"No, you're not." Sam shoved to upright and skittishly glanced around. "Now where are the General and Doctor McKay?"

"He's alive if that's your concern."

Sam stared at the familiar face. This Janet was definitely flawed. She was the enemy. Sam grit her teeth against the pain and the familiar voice that upturned Sam's logical mind. But then that was no doubt the plan. "Who in hell are you?"

"Sam, it's me!"

"Is it? The Janet I know wouldn't put her friends in harms way."

"Sam, you of all people know that we often do things we detest in order to protect those we love."

"This is different," she argued.

"Really? It's different than when you almost let Cassandra die to save the Stargate or shot Martouf to protect the president and the Tok'ra supreme high councilor? So different from hurting Jack and Cassandra in order to have a life—and almost marry that hokey cop? Or better yet, that for almost eighteen years you conveniently forgot you had conceived and bore a daughter, so you could play alien war games? Or that you tore the sole purpose I had for living on that pathetic planet from my arms - - my sweet Cassandra."

"Enough!" Sam leaped to her feet. "The Janet I knew wouldn't be so heartless."

"Wouldn't she? How often did you ever really talk to me about me, about what I wanted, Sam? Did you know I love Jack? That we were secretly dating before I died?"

"That's a lie."

"Is it? You were so self-absorbed making yourself happy that you failed to notice anything, let alone how often Jack turned to me as a friend and later as a lover. He's the best lay I ever had, Sam. Better than my ex, Daniel, Teal'c, Davis. Did you know I had most of the SGC officers?" She snickered.

Sam gaped at the cruel-mouthed woman strutting before her. This was too surreal. Sam knew that since she'd branded with Jack he couldn't get it on with other women. His experience with Kerry Johnson proved that much. Unless his affair with Janet had happened before they were branded? Dang! Now she doubted her husband. This vile creature appeared to be Janet, except, "Janet wasn't a slut?"

"And how would you know?" She got in Sam's face. "You think that like you I lived my entire life for that hole in a mountain or for the affections of one man who never gave me the time of day except to screw me when he had tried to forget you."

Tears seared Sam's eyes, until she noticed a momentary glow in Janet's brown eyes. Stomping her emotions back in place, Sam quipped, "Or none of the above."

"What does that mean?" Janet clenched her hands at her sides.

Sam took a brave step forward. "That even if Janet slept with the entire SGC, she wouldn't brag about or use it to hurt me. Because one thing I did know about Janet was that her reputation as a dedicated physician and officer meant everything to her. Even if she did indulge in extra curricular activities she would have done so secretively because that was her human nature. But then you're not human are you, Nirrti?"

The Goa'uld's eyes glowed and a cold voice emitted from the clone, "You are truly a genius, Colonel Carter, or is it O'Neill? But how did you know?"

Something of the host remains, Sam thought, please God, let Janet be in there somewhere. She shut her eyes and then opened them. "Last year we encountered a similar situation on Kelowna. A Goa'uld named Seer employed by Baal had a drug that masked the presence of the symbiote. I assume that we have you to thank for that?"

"Of course, Colonel Carter." Nirrti bragged. "You really don't think that I died when that demented fool Woden broke my host's neck, do you?" She stuck her right hand into the lab coat's pocket.

"It was a sweet thought while it lasted." Sam lunged for the unarmed Goa'uld.

Nirrti raised her hand and the attached ribbon device glowed with a powerful ray that slammed Sam into the wall, knocking her unconscious. As she collapsed to the floor, Nirrti approached and snorted, "Perhaps, someday, you will learn I have all the time in your world. And this time, Samantha, I will have what I want, your beloved daughter and husband Jack O'Neill."

Nirrti's First Prime stepped forward. "What would you have me do with her, Mistress?"

"I have what I want from her. Test her physical endurance so we might determine to what degree her Ancient DNA has progressed since being branded to O'Neill. Since the repairs on the sarcophagus are not complete I don't want her to die—yet. But enjoy yourself."

"As you wish." He smiled wickedly.

Nirrti glanced at the blonde woman's unconscious form. For a moment Nirrti struggled with her cloned host, but won out. "Also record the analysis. You can use the blood of Sokar if you like."

"Yes, my Sovereign." The Jaffa ordered his minions to carry Sam away.

Nirrti smiled. At last she would have her revenge on SG-1 and above all, she would have the desire of her heart, Jack O'Neill.

**SGC:**

Cassandra paced General Landry's office that was manned by two SF's at each door, for her protection, she'd been told. Well, she'd been here too long without explanation, let alone any contact with her parents. One minute she'd been at a girlfriend's sleepover, then next four SF's showed up and escorted her here, yesterday. Most of her time had been spent alone in her father's former quarters. She'd been livid and demanded to speak with Daniel. Eventually Teal'c showed to comfort her and said he'd find out what he could. He never returned.

"I'm glad to see you safe, Ms O'Neill," Landry said from the corridor's doorway then to the guards, "Dismissed."

The airmen saluted and obeyed. The general shut the door and turned to face her with a troubled look.

"For crying out loud, General, why am I here and where's Jack and Sam?"

"You better sit down," Landry no sooner said when someone knocked on the corridor door.

"Enter," he gruffly ordered as he walked toward Cassandra.

General Hammond dressed in civvies stepped inside and shut the door.

"Uncle George?" She ran over as he opened his arms for her.

"It's okay, child," he soothed her rubbing her tensed back. "I'm here."

"Where's mom and dad?" she asked softly, assuming Landry didn't know the truth, then pulled back, fighting the tears she'd been restraining.

"We don't know. We're hoping you could help us," said George.

"I've been trying to contact them," she lowered her voice and glanced at Landry then at George who gave her a smile of encouragement.

"Hank's a friend of your dad's, Cass. He knows about your conception and your parents' marriage. We can trust him. Actually, he knew where you were and brought you here."

"How?" she looked suspiciously at Landry, who hedged a smile as he sat down in the leather chair.

"Um, per Jack's order, we've had you under surveillance since you returned home, Ms O'Neill."

"Oh, really." She wasn't happy, figuring it had to do with her recent behavior issues.

"Only for your safety. In all honesty, it was just good timing. If you'd been home with your parents you would not be here. Safe."

"Perhaps, but I'd be with them. Now tell me what's going on. Where's Daniel and what happened to Teal'c? He never came back to my quarters."

"That was my decision." Hank explained. "Daniel is um not well."

"No! What's happened?" she paled, fearing her true feeling for Daniel might show.

"I'm afraid I can't divulge that information, except to say we are doing what we can to help him," Landry explained.

"Uncle George?" she pleaded.

"I'm as much in the dark as you, Cass." His right arm tightened around her. "Let's get to the bottom of this shall we, Hank?"

"Of course, General, Ms O'Neill. Your parents vanished from their house. We know it was with an Asgard transport beam, or a facsimile. We've sent word to the Asgard but so far received no response—"

A bright light flashed and Thor appeared in the guest chair. "Good day, General Hammond, General Landry," he stood and turned to face Cass. "And it is always a pleasure to see you, Cassandra Fraiser O'Neill."

"What a relief, Thor!" She left George's arms and went to Thor. "Please, tell us, you know where mom and dad are?"

"I will try. We have located the Goa'uld mothership on the outer perimeter of your galaxy. The Asgard council has concluded, it is imperative that you to come with me, Cassandra O'Neill. You will be safer onboard the _Daniel Jackson_ and with your sensory perception inherited from your parents, we hope to find them."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Yes, Thor," George stalked forward, "We'd like to know what you found."

"I fear that General O'Neill and Colonel Carter's lives have been compromised by the organization you call The TRUST."

"Damn!" Landry breathed out.

"It is indeed a bad situation." Thor agreed.

"We'll send the Prometheus." Landry nodded to George's affirming look.

"They will arrive too late."

"For what?"

"I regret to inform you that the Asgard Council has kept pertinent Intel from you. Last year our foremost Asgard scientist Loki was abducted by Baal."

"Oh, hell!" George gripped.

"My exact sentiments, General." Thor sighed.

"We haven't heard from Baal since we defeated Anubis," said Landry.

"I assure you he is quite alive, General Landry. Since he abducted Loki, we have tried to locate him but until today with no success. Needless to say the cloning knowledge Loki possesses will prove dangerous in Goa'uld hands."

"That's an understatement," George muttered.

"However, twelve hours ago a Goa'uld Al'kesh appeared for exactly fifteen Earth seconds in your atmosphere and--,"

"We know." Landry interrupted, "But before we could track the ship, it entered hyper drive and went off the screen."

"Time out!" Cassandra waved her hands. "You're all telling me, that Baal abducted my parents and you've no idea where they are?"

"That is correct, Cassandra O'Neill." Thor's dark eyes repeatedly blinked. "And I fear you are the only person who can locate them before Baal has his way with them. No doubt he knows of their progressive evolution into Ancients, especially Jack."

Landry raised a hand. "Excuse me, but I seem to be missing something. What do you mean she has a inherited a sensory perception from Jack and Samantha and that he's an Ancient?"

"We really must leave," Thor looked at Cassandra.

"Not without Teal'c." She folded her arms to her chest and stared mulishly at the Asgard.

"You are indeed an O'Neill," said Thor and they vanished.

"For the love of mercy! General Hammond, please explain what's happening here?" Landry asked in frustration.

"Sure. Have a seat, Hank." George directed him to one of the guest chairs.

Hank gawked at his commander but obeyed. George walked around the mahogany desk and eased into the large leather chair, trailing his hands up and down the arms as if petting an affectionate dog.

"I really miss this chair," he said in his Texan drawl and recalled his ongoing game of musical chairs with Jack. His lips twitched with a smirk.

"Sir?" Hank's patience thinned.

"Certainly, son." George smiled. "It all started in a galaxy far, far away—."

The office door open as Cameron bolted inside waving his hands. "Sirs, you're never going to believe what happened. Teal'c just got beamed out of the infirmary!"


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX 

In her chambers, Nirrti divested herself of the disgusting Janet Fraiser costume and slipped into a skimpy silk gown, then arranged her hair in East Indian fashion. Although, she enjoyed this host's fuller figure, Nirrti missed her old self that in all honesty had been almost two thousand years old and needed to be recycled.

Like it or not, Woden had done Nirrti a favor that day he'd snapped her neck. But then she had sensed the inevitable climax and had detached herself from the host's spinal column just seconds from the end. The worst Nirrti's serpentine form had suffered was a bruise to her Goa'uld pride. She'd slithered away with none the wiser, vowing to one day take back what was her future hok taurs; Jack O'Neill, Samantha Carter, and their first born, Cassandra. Since then she'd had over a dozen hosts, temporary shells until she found a permanent residence.

Having lost another laboratory to the efforts of SG-1, Nirrti had to start over. But she'd left Woden's planet with vital knowledge on Ancient branding that had been initialized on Carter's DNA since she'd given birth to Cassandra. Not to mention what had been gleamed from the Kelownan Jonas Quinn. So while the other system lords had joined forces to defeat Anubis, Nirrti quietly worked in her lab on a distant moon. Firstly, she'd developed a drug that concealed traces of Naquadrah in a Goa'uld and its host, and secondly, she'd learned to clone hosts. Patience was one of many human traits Nirrti had come to admire and use to her advantage.

Now with Anubis and most of the major system lords turned to space debris, she could enjoy herself and in time, rule the universe. But first she had to pacify a handful of minor system lords including Klorel, Zipacna, and the worst of the lot, Baal. Yes, Baal would be the most difficult to squash, for there was nothing minor about him.

Baal was one of her many lovers over the centuries. After taking him to her bed again she'd initiated a truce and got her hands on the sniveling, but brilliant Asgard Loki. Nirrti had learned another human quality. When a Goa'uld took over a male Tau'ri it quickly found itself inundated with male hormones which clouded its Goa'uld nature. Basically, they became horny as rabbits and Baal was no exception. He'd been immediately attracted to Janet Fraiser and Nirrti had gotten everything she wanted. However now, she must become cleverer than ever, especially once Baal learned of her deceit.

Today Nirrti would divest herself of this present host, Fraiser #6. Although most of the host no longer existed, there was enough left that it'd almost ruined the enjoyable moments with Colonel Carter this morning. Oh, Nirrti had intended to reveal herself in time. But she'd gone too far expecting Carter to swallow the, Fraiser was a whore line. Interestingly though, she'd not lied about Fraiser's feelings for O'Neill. But then, what woman didn't want that beautiful Tau'ri? Point noted.

Each Fraiser clone, proved closer to perfection, which would allow Nirrti to achieve her goal. Although similar to Anubis' super drones her clones reserved memories minus the emotions, thus allowing the Goa'uld to utilize the host's history. Her latest attempt to clone the host and Goa'uld as one entity had been a success. Baal would kill her in a heartbeat to acquire this technology. Still there were two flaws. One, her clones remained as physically fallible as a normal host and secondly, they possessed no Ancient DNA. Without which Nirrti would never create the ultimate advanced human host, a hok taur. Now that she had O'Neill and Carter, Nirrti's misfortune had changed to fortune. Better yet, they'd never know.

"You said I could have the donor O'Neill!" Klorel made grand entrance into Nirrti's chamber, stalking back and forth in royal rage.

"That I did." Nirrti pushed upright on her velvet cushions and yawned indifference at the Goa'uld's furious outburst. She'd been a rebel Goa'uld too long to be intimidated by a son of Apophis, a dead Apophis no less. The young Klorel had yet to realize that he was her pawn, as were the other Goa'uld she'd taken up with these last few years.

"So why did you place me in this-this female warrior's body?"

"You know I rarely keep promises, Klorel. But in my defense and considering your former host was old and dying, I did the best I could on short notice. This body you inhabit is young, strong, and possesses knowledge that will help us reinstate the system lords in this galaxy. You will soon learn female hosts have advantages that male hosts don't. I believe the Tau'ri call one such advantage, 'feminine wiles.'" She sipped from her wine goblet. "So use them well."

"But I do not want a clone!"

"Klorel, when will you realize that these weak humans hosts are nothing but aggravation with the obstinacies to control their vessel? Do you not enjoy the freedom allowed within this clone? You have complete authority over its consciousness. No more inner battles. And for the first time we Goa'uld can truly state that nothing of the host remains?"

Klorel calmed. "Yes, I admit that unlike with Skaara, this is a pleasurable blending. I can access memories and emotions whenever I desire and there is no resistance."

"Correct. You have no reason to complain. Furthermore, I had originally planned to inhabit your clone, which would make my plans for O'Neill much more enjoyable. Do not give me reason to regret my change of heart." She rose from the cushions and came to stand before him with an intimidating look. "You won't like it."

"Understood, Nirrti. But it will still take time to adjust to this--this feminine host."

"Yes, transition from one gender to the other is often difficult. You will now become the daughter of Apophis."

"I know." Klorel snorted. "Now where is its donor?"

"Being interrogated." Nirrti shrugged indifference.

"Would you allow me that honor?"

"As you wish. I should have eliminated her when I had the chance. She has too much influence over O'Neill. In the past their relationship proved beneficial. I know realize the only way I will gain access to their daughter Cassandra, is through him. Do with Carter what you will."

"Thank you." Klorel nodded. "And now that you've perfected the cloning what will we do with the Asgard?"

"His usefulness has ended. We must dispose of Loki before Baal demands his return, especially since I've created multiple clones without DNA degeneration."

"You really don't intend to give that data to Baal?" Klorel looked worried.

"Of course not. Can you imagine this galaxy with multiple Baals?" Nirrti shuddered.

"Never." Klorel mimicked her reaction.

"Good."

"And what of Shanahan?"

"His being the first prototype has proved advantageous to my experiments. But he too has exceeded his worth. I will eliminate him shortly. Besides he's too emotionally attached to Colonel Carter. He will not be receptive to her demise, which will give me pleasure."

"I agree. But let me enjoy him awhile."

"Do what you like. And after you've amused yourself with Colonel Carter, we will talk with Zipacana. Now that he has joined our alliance we must converse on the next move to defeat Baal," said Nirrti.

"Of course. And insure that Baal takes the blame for what happens today with O'Neill and Carter."

"Yes. I also think the scientist McKay will prove a generous addition to our cause. Perhaps Zipacana will chose his clone."

Klorel nodded. "You still insist that no harm befalls the donor O'Neill?"

"I do. Put aside your petty retribution for him taking you from the host Skaara, who I remind you is long dead."

"He's not dead. He's an ascended being. And no, I will not put aside my thirst for revenge. But in this body it will taste much sweeter."

"I warn you, Klorel!" Nirrti stood her ground.

"Do not upset yourself. I will not injure him physically. But there are ways as this clone knows that will ripe his human heart asunder."

"Now that I will enjoy."

Feeling like she'd been dragged behind a X-302, Sam opened her eyes and glanced around. Her wrists bound and over her head, she was chained to the ceiling, her boots just scraping the floor. Sam knew exactly where she was, Nirrti's torture chamber.

"So the female Tau'ri has awakened." A Goa'uld mocked.

"Yes, milord," said the Jaffa guard.

"Leave us."

Oil burning wall torches illuminated the chamber. Sam concentrated on the location of the voice and watched its host step out of the shadows while the guard walked away.

"Replicarter?" Sam blinked in surprise.

"No. But I'm certain that in a few seconds you will prefer that version to this one," responded the tall, blonde Goa'uld dressed in Sam's green BTU's.

Sam was looking at herself. "Dear God, a Goa'uld clone!"

"You are indeed smarter than Doctor McKay." Her clone circled. "I hope you remember me, Colonel Carter. I am Klorel, daughter of Apophis."

"You got to be kidding!" Sam's shock caused her mouth to hang ajar as she futilely struggled in her chains.

"Oh, I do not as you say, kid. But speaking of children, how is your lovely daughter, Cassandra?"

Sam glared.

"You know she hates you, right? All those years you'd abandoned her. Then once you found her, you abandoned her again in that missile silo, and then by giving her over to Janet Fraiser."

"I came back for her and I didn't know she was my child!" The moment the words spewed from her lips, Sam regretted them. The clone knew exactly what had happened in Sam and Cassandra's life. From here on she'd not speak a word, she'd not be baited.

"Yes, you did. Now how about saving yourself further physical and emotional trauma? Where's Cassandra? I mean I'm sure you and O'Neill wished she'd come along for this family reunion."

"Go to hell, you heartless snake!"

"Shut your mouth," the Goa'uld commanded.

"Make me!" Sam challenged herself.

"My pleasure." Klorel's fist slammed into her mouth.

Under the brutal blow, Sam felt her jawbone crack and agonizing pain fired through her face. Blood trickled from her mouth and nose. Her vision swimming, she watched as Klorel removed weapons of torture off the wall and then turned back to her. Unable to speak Sam could only stare in fear and listen to her own taunting voice.

"Holy Hannah! You can't exactly talk with a broken jaw now can you? Well, I'll be honest. We no longer need you, Samantha. And I cannot wait to see our beloved husband's expression when I set your shattered corpse at his feet. Consider it my small token for when he ripped me from my first host, Skaara. Now," the Goa'uld gloated in Sam's voice, "What shall we next break, mayhap a few ribs and then a shin . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN 

_The Daniel Jackson_ dropped out of hyperspace. Cassandra pinched her eyes shut waiting for her stomach to catch up with her spinning head. This was her first time aboard an Asgard vessel, well any vessel for that matter. Despite being worried to death over the fate of her parents, she was in awe of everything she saw. Nothing, not even the Stargate could compare to being aboard a spaceship surrounded by the vastness of the universe and billions of stars.

She walked forward to stand beside the stoic Teal'c. Together they stared out of the helm's main porthole at the uninhabited water planet with three moons, two of which had rings.

"It is indeed a magnificent sight," said Teal'c.

"Yes." Cassandra smiled. "I so get it."

"Get what?" his brows hiked up his forehead.

"What seduced mom and dad, and why they love outer space. It's so elusive, so beautiful--" she gestured at the immensity before them.

"And treacherous." Teal'c reminded.

"Yeah, that too." She turned into him and her smile panned out.

"Cassandra, O'Neill and Colonel Carter are the two most resilient warriors I know. We will find them alive." He folded his arms around her.

"Yes we will. Um, Teal'c, do you pray?"

"Indeed. Why do you ask?"

"Will you pray for dad and mom?"

"I have already done so." He kissed her forehead.

"Thanks, Uncle T."

"Think nothing of it." He smiled down into her face and then winked which made her laugh softly.

"You spend way too much time with dad."

"Ya think?"

"I do." Another smile warmed her face. "And thanks for reminding me why I love you. So you going to share how Daniel's doing?"

"Of that matter I am uncertain. Doctor Lam is highly qualified and I trust she will—"

"Teal'c, Cassandra O'Neill." Loki turned from the helm's consol. "I have detected the presence of a Goa'uld mothership in this sector. Cassandra, please attempt to contact your parents."

Nodding, she stepped away from Teal'c, closed her eyes and then concentrating on Jack and Sam spoke inside her head. '_Mom? Dad? Can you hear me? It's me, Cass. Please someone answer . . .'_

Jack heard his daughter. _'Sunshine? Where are?'_

'_Dad! I'm with Thor and Teal'c, onboard The Daniel Jackson. And you?_'

He tried to answer but someone screamed, called his name. Sam? Then he got nothing but static. A moment later, fighting to regain consciousness, Jack opened his aching eyes to a sight he imagined to never see, Pete Shanahan and Janet Fraiser standing outside the force field with an Asgard. It didn't take him long to realize what had happened.

"Loki?" he asked with a threatening tone.

"It is good to see you alive, O'Neill." The three-foot pasty gray Asgard blinked and held a hand of acknowledgement.

"Why you smarmy slug!" Jack got to his feet and ran toward the force field, but halted just shy of the highly charged invisible shield. "I'm going to smash your brains into so many pieces, that even the Asgard will never be able to glue you back together!"

"Oh dear!" His tiny hands shielding him, Loki took a quick step backward toward the odd couple that laughed at Jack's threat.

"And afterward I'll make chicken out of you smarmy snakes!"

"Do I look worried, old man?" Pete snickered. "And by the way, I'm not a snake."

Jack cursed.

"O'Neill?" McKay called out hoarsely and shoved to his feet. "We still locked up?"

"Yeah." Jack dragged a hand through his hair. "And we've been had by an Ass--gard!"

"No!" Loki shook his skinned head in animated Jack fashion.

"Oh, please." Janet admonished the Asgard, "You better remember that you agreed to my terms." Dressed in an East Indian costume, she turned to the alien and frowned just like Janet.

Jack shut his eyes and slowly peeled them open. Oy! Yep, still looked and talked like doc Fraiser.

"Only if you did not harm the humans." Loki maintained and stared at Jack with his Asgard version of a pleading expression. "You must believe I was forcibly abducted. I had nothing to do with their kidnapping you, Doctor McKay, or Colonel Carter. They made me assist them."

"And just who are '_they', L_antern Jaw?" Jack set his outraged glint on Pete who wore a lazy confident smile he longed to shred into a million pieces.

"We are The TRUST. But then you already knew that," Pete countered.

"Actually no," Jack admitted. "You mean the Goa'uld infested NID TRUST that took over Senator Kinsey among others?"

"Yes, but as I said before, I'm not Goa'uld," Pete strutted forward. "I am a Tau'ri employed by The TRUST."

"A stinking rat traitor." Jack saw Pete's smile falter. "So where's Carter?" he redirected the dialogue.

"She's safe." Pete shrugged. "And will not be injured."

"Forgive me for being a pragmatic skeptic, Shanahan. Prove it! I want to see her now."

"Yeah, me too." Rodney demanded. "And if you've hurt her, I'll single handily ring your —"

Jack sent him a curt stare.

"I mean _he'll_ ring your smarmy neck. Right?" Rodney pressed a smile at Jack who turned back to their abductors.

Deathly silence followed until Rodney cleared his throat. "Now isn't this just cozy?" he perused their kidnappers. And then focused on Janet. "Hey, um, isn't she like dead?" he asked Jack.

"Yes." He nodded. "Very. As in six feet under, pushing up daises." He addressed the Goa'uld. "So let me get this straight," his hands directed traffic. "That body you've taken hostage is in actuality a reproduction of Doc Fraiser's?"

"No. I am Janet, Jack. I'm here to help you—,"

"Ah, cut the bull crap. Janet's dead." He glanced at Loki. "Right?"

"That would depend upon your definition of dead, O'Neill. The Pentagon and General Hammond gave my superior commander Thor Doctor Fraiser's DNA tissue before the interment of her remains, so that we might further our experimentation of cloning humans for the future security of planet Earth." The Asgard stepped closer, his beady eyes rounding up as he lowered his high-pitched voice, "However, Baal and his cohorts have since altered the clones' DNA and their personalities for the worse I fear."

"Oops." Jack felt ill.

"But then you knew that, didn't you, sir." Sam entered the chamber accompanied by two Jaffa.

"Sam?" Relieved to see her, Jack shoved past McKay to face his wife. "You _okay_?"

"Of course."

That was so not the answer he'd hoped to hear. _'Hey, Sam, forever okay,'_ he reached out to her in his mind. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

Sam sauntered up to Pete then leaned in and kissed the former police officer. Lantern Jaw kissed her passionately back. Jack had no doubt there was tongue action in that kiss. His mouth unhinged as his stomach knotted and the vein in his forehead popped out.

Rodney gaped then glanced at Jack with his own shocked expression. "Please tell me that's not Samantha?"

"Oh, crap. I hope not." Jack griped and shut his eyes to the sight of Sam kissing another man. Eventually the lovers parted. Sam dismissed Jack's anguished look with one of apathy. "He's a better lover than you, Jack. And did I mention a lot younger, which means more stamina."

"I am sorry, O'Neill." Loki shrugged his shoulder-less frame.

"Aren't we all?" Jack shook off Sam's insult suspecting this wasn't his wife. '_Dear God, don't let this be her.'_

Loki continued his act of contrition. "Once again, I've been forced to obey them."

"Have you ever seen that _Just Say No _commercial?" carped Jack.

As if ashamed the Asgard dropped his head and looked away.

Eyes glowing, Janet laughed and revealed her Goa'uld half. "Ah, it is a pleasure to see you've not lost your smart tongue, O'Neill."

"That's _smart lip_, sicko." McKay tossed in for good measure.

Jack gave him the, 'shut up,' look.

"Hey, um, I'm feeling ignored." McKay defended. "I mean I'm brilliant and you're well," he waved his hands with distain.

"Far more valuable." The Goa'uld's brown gaze remained fixed on Jack. "I believe I'm to blame for your dislike of scientists, General."

Jack's eyes widened with recognition. "Nirrti, you old snake?"

"I am pleased you remember. You realize I've known you since you were a toddler crawling about on your knees."

"Yes well, you know all about crawling on your belly." He taunted.

"Yes, and I look forward to seeing you in that position again, but for a far different reason." She slithered forward as Janet, and disarmed the force field. Nirrti reached to caress his face.

"I wouldn't do that." He warned with a dark glint and sidestepped her.

"Why? You going to use your Ancient powers and toss me across the room or—," She laughed.

A scream of pain ripped from Jack's lungs as he grabbed his head and toppled to his knees. Tears rolled down his face. In his mind's eye he saw and felt his wife's pain. "Oh, God!" he shouted out as one of Sam's legs was shattered by a blunt instrument.

Nirrti jumped back and raised the force field.

When he opened his eyes Jack was barely aware of McKay lifting him off the floor or the look of surprise on Nirrti's face.

"Wha-at," he breathed out in an agonizing gasp, "Have you done to Carter?"

"I'm here, Scarecrow." Sam came within a foot of the force field and frowned at his behavior.

"No. You're not Carter." He shook his head in denial and gripped McKay's arm. "Shit! They're torturing her!"

Rodney stared at O'Neill's ashen features. He didn't know what was going on, but the General was definitely experiencing some type of telepathic connection with Samantha. "I believe you," he whispered.

"Stop." Jack lunged to his feet as something sharp pierced Sam's right lung. He clutched his chest and he gasped for breath.

"Well, this is interesting." Nirrti looked at Jack then at the clone Samantha who now didn't look very well. "Klorel, what are you feeling?"

"I," the clone's eyes glowed white as the Goa'uld spoke. "Feel nothing," she sighed relief.

"Then I've succeeded. The clone no longer experiences pain or pleasure as its donor." She looked at Pete who had noticeably paled.

"I kissed a Goa'uld?" Pete spit and swiped at his mouth.

"Yes. Meet Klorel, son of Apophis."

"A-a male Goa'uld?" Pete gagged.

Jack sneered.

"Corrections, daughter of Apophis." Klorel's blue eyes flickered with white light.

"Of course." Nirrti nodded, then said to Pete, "And she even fooled you. Just as you believed her exaggeration of what a great lover you are. Speaking as someone familiar with your bedside manner I find you adequate but hardly anything to crow about, Pete Shanahan."

His pale complexion turned crimson with anger. "You promised me you wouldn't harm Sam!" he lunged toward Nirrti.

"Don't!" Nirrti ordered, lifted her ribbon device and aimed at Pete's forehead, bringing him to his knees. Behind her, three Jaffa stepped forward. "You will learn I do not tolerate impertinence from my minions. Besides you did not bring me the one named Cassandra." She lowered her hand and ended the torture that left a suffering Pete curled in a ball gasping for air.

"Klorel?" Jack looked into the clone's glowing eyes.

"Yes. You assumed the Tok'ra had eliminated me after you separated me from my host, Skaara. As you see, I escaped. And for the record I initiated the torture your wife now endures and that will soon kill her."

"You son of a bitch!" Jack threatened.

"Yes, well mother did manage to make the rounds." Klorel chuckled.

"Oh, dear, this has become dreadfully problematical," Loki commented ringing his spiny hands.

"Why am I not surprised?" Perspiration beaded Jack's forehead. In order to do what he needed, he broke his connection with Sam, but not before pleading with her. '_Don't you die on me, Carter? I need you, so does Cass and Charlie. Live, damnit!' _Although he heard no reply, Jack sensed she was alive and that was enough incentive. Meanwhile Pete was looking too good.

Nirrti seemed to take this into consideration and poked Pete with her foot. "Be thankful that I like you, Tau'ri." She turned to a guard, "Stop the Carter donor's punishment and bring her to me—breathing."

"Yes, milord." The Jaffa quickly left the chamber.

"No!" Klorel argued. "I want her dead. I want to see the look on his face . . ."

"All in good time." Nirrti huffed. "If you damaged her as well as you said, that will be enough to bring O'Neill to his knees begging."

"Me beg? I don't think so," Jack said as arrogantly as possible.

"Oh, you will beg for me to take you instead and to let her live. But of course there's another option. We could barter."

"Really?" Rodney walked purposely around Jack. "We're always open to options, bartering. Right General?"

"Bud out, McKay!" Jack was close to losing it. "We don't barter with Goa'uld, especially this wacko witch."

"Okay, then." Rodney muttered expletives. "Since you seem to know everything."

"I do?" Jack scrunched his face and then smiled sweetly at the depraved Goa'uld scientist. "So what'd you have in mind?"

Rodney did an eye roll and cursed.

"Give me Cassandra and I'll let you and the Colonel go."

"Excuse me?" Jack snorted. "When hell freezes over."

"You'd be amazed what I can do, O'Neill."

"Excellent. Can you stand on your head, and fart to the Barry Manilow song, Mandy?"

"Jack?" Rodney interrupted. "Maybe you should ease up on the insults."

"Silence! I will deal with you shortly." Nirrti dismissed Rodney like a dog then looked back at Jack. Janet's brown eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Now, O'Neill, have you looked around you?" she goaded. "Does this chamber not look familiar?"

Searching the Goa'ul'd uniform for pockets, he gave a clipped nod. "Oh, yeah, love whatcha done with the place. But you took out the double king size bed, huh?"

"Perhaps I will have reason to put the bed back," she said in a sultry voice.

"In your dreams, bitch." He glanced at Rodney who looked like he was about to wet his pants. Jack whispered, "When I say, 'now', I want you to nab Loki, hit the deck, and tell him to shut his eyes. You do the same."

"Why?" Rodney scowled.

"Because, Doc Brilliant, I don't want you to go blind."

"Oh, well since you put it that way."

"No talking!" Klorel shouted, stepping closer to the force field with a suspicious glint.

"Fine." Jack yelled. "That better?" he'd no sooner spoken than a third clone entered the chamber. "Oh, crap!" He glanced at the man beside him. "I can handle a lot, but two McKays—there aren't enough antacids to fix that." Jack punched his midsection for emphasis.

Rodney's mouth dropped open as he stared at himself.

"Yes, there's not enough room in the universe for two of us, right?" the McKay clone stated sarcastically as it approached and kepi its focus on Rodney. "Do I always look that dense when I'm surprised?"

"Yes." Jack answered, then to Rodney, "Zip it."

The Atlantis scientist closed his mouth and gulped. "Do I really look like I've an extra tire around my waist?"

"Yes." Jack sighed. "Now if we're done admiring ourselves—I'd like to go '_now_.'"

Rodney just stood there gaping at his clone.

"Oh for cryin' out loud!" Jack wanted to strangle someone, anyone. Crap, he needed to save Sam! "This is a freaking three ring circus!"

Meanwhile, Nirrti strutted about like proud peacock. "Doctor McKay meet Doctor McKay or should I say, the Goa'uld Zipacna."

"Zipwho?" Rodney balked and looked from one Goa'uld to another and finally at Jack.

Racking his brain, Jack scratched his head then snapped his fingers. "Zippy, you old dog. I knew Teal'c should have snapped your neck back on Tollana."

"No doubt." Zipacna scoffed. "That was his mistake and my good fortune."

"Helloooo!" McKay poked Jack's arm.

"Hey." Jack pulled away and rubbed the bruised limb.

"I'd like an explanation here, General."

"No time."

"Then I'll do the honors," Zipacna gestured, "I was Klorel's--,"

"Defense attorney at Klorel and Skaara's mock trial. I'll fill you in later, Rodney, promise."

"Yeah, right." The scientist snorted.

"Okay then." Jack scrubbed his hands. "On with the light show. Hey, Loki, old buddy, old pal, old chum," Jack addressed the edgy alien. "Why don't you explain why I and Thor shouldn't skin you alive?"

"I already told you," he met Jack's coaxing look, "I was abducted and," stepped within a few within feet of the shimmering blue force field.

"That's far enough." Nirrti ordered the Asgard.

He timidly obeyed and blinked nervously at Jack then Rodney.

"So, tell me, Nirrti, just whatcha got planned for us? Torture us with your sex toys, beer and pizza, what?"

Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Think you can do better?" Jack snorted and wet his pointer finger, then held it up as if testing the direction of the wind. There was no wind.

"Actually—"

"Now!" Jack turned and his hands shot a blinding white light that disarmed the force field.

Rodney dove for Loki and rolled to the deck face down, covering his eyes.

Jack aimed for Nirrti, Klorel, and then Zipacna. They burst into flames and their agonizing wails seared the air.The three Goa'uld floundered in balls of fire. Before he could shot the Jaffa, one guard grazed his left arm with a staff weapon blast.

'_Jack?'_ Sam called out to him.

Feeling her indescribable agony pain fueled Jack's wrath and he fired flames at the retreating guards. On fire the Jaffa fled into the corridor and then flailed about before crumbling into smoldering piles. Meanwhile, Nirrti, Klorel and Zipacna had transformed to ashes.

His rage barely in check Jack turned to incinerate Pete.

"No! Please, don't?" Pete groveled, falling to his knees, crying.

"Give me a reason?" Jack stepped toward him, right hand outstretched, his eyes glowing with the light of the Ancients.

"I-I had no choice. If I hadn't, they'd have killed my wife."

"Wife?"

"Yes. You must believe me, I'm married and—"

"Get up!" Jack ordered the sniveling man who obeyed and backed away.

The stench of burning flesh invaded Jack's nostrils as he stooped and shook Rodney who'd curled up into a trembling ball around Loki.

"C'mon!" Jack ordered, "We gotta find Carter." He glanced at Pete who stared like a frightened rabbit at the floating ashen remains of the Goa'uld.

Meanwhile, Rodney peeled open one eye and looked around him. "Holy smokes, what did you do?"

"If I told you, I'd have to shoot you," Jack drawled and helped Loki to his feet. "You okay, little guy?"

"Yes, I--"

Light flashed and Teal'c materialized a few feet away. Teal'c aimed his staff weapon at the police officer, but addressed Jack, "O'Neill, it is good to see you."

"Likewise, T." Jack cradled his injured arm. "You alone?"

"Indeed. However Cassandra and Thor are onboard _The Daniel Jackson_." He handed him a Zat then one to Rodney.

"Thanks. But what's Cassandra doing here?"

"It was she who helped locate you and Colonel Carter."

"Of course." Jack realized why he'd heard her. "Is she all right?"

"She is, but understandably concerned. We must leave immediately. Thor had detected an approaching mothership and believes it to be Baal."

Jack nodded and ran for the corridor. "Not until we get Carter."

"Indeed." The Jaffa took up his weapon and they hurried cautiously down the corridor sidestepping the smoldering remains. "You are responsible, O'Neill?" Teal'c's eyebrows shifted.

Jack shrugged.

"Oh, yeah." Rodney did a body shudder. "Way too spooky for me. He makes the Goa'uld and Wrath look like child's play."

"That's because he's an An—" Loki went silent when Jack gave him the evil eye. "Advanced Tau'ri." The Asgard quickly recovered and gulped.

Rodney's eyes rounded as he put two and two together. "Well, I'll be d--"

Suddenly, Pete snatched up a discarded zat'ni'katel, fired at Jack but missed. Teal'c swung out his arm clipping the man full force across the face, then caught the unconscious cop and looked at Jack for direction.

"We need him for Intel."

"He would have killed you, O'Neill."

"Ya think? Bring him."

"As you wish." Teal'c flung Pete over his shoulder.

The sound of marching boots echoed back. Jack signaled everyone to hide behind the corridor's columns and partitions.

Two Jaffa carried Sam on a gurney while another two men flanked them with staff weapons. Jack signaled Teal'c. The Shova nodded, eased Pete to the deck and then allowed the Jaffa with Sam to pass by.

Teal'c called out, "Kree!" then stepped out and shot the two Jaffa, wounding but not killing them.

The remaining Jaffa dropped the gurney and turned to fire. Jack shot his zat, stunning them. "Consider them new recruits for the Free Jaffa, T."

"Indeed." Teal'c smiled, letting down his guard.

Pete snatched Teal'c's zat and fired at Rodney, who shuddered and buckled. Before Pete could turn the zat on anyone else, Jack sent a single bolt of white energy at the man.

"Oww!" Pete was on fire.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c shouted, "You said we need him alive."

Jack indifferently watched the cop screamed and slap at the flames that licked his clothing and face. "Fine! Save him." He hurried toward Sam.

Teal'c pushed Pete to the floor and rolled him, smothering the flames.

Loki slinked out from behind a wall partition and blinked in shock while Teal'c extinguished Pete's burning body. The Asgard asked, "It is over?"

No one answered as Jack went to Sam and hunkered down, checking her pulse. "Oh, God, no!" He stared at her pulverized bleeding face and broken body. "Sam, can you hear me?" He brushed back blood soaked hair from her eyes and pressed another hand to her silent heart. Moments passed as he directed his Ancient healing energy into her.

Her swollen eyelids fluttered and she gasped back to life then slurred, "Ja-ck?"

"Yeah think?" his voice bottomed out but he smiled while tears of relief wet his eyes. "Hang in there, Dorothy." He then called to Teal'c. "T, get us off this Goa'uld cruise ship from Hell."

Knelling over the comatose Pete Shanahan, Teal'c spoke into his COM. "We are ready, Thor."

A second later, twelve shafts of light shot through space and into the Daniel Jackson.

Ten seconds later, a Goa'uld glider launched from Nirrti's mothership.

Fifteen seconds later, Baal's ship came into view and fired at Nirrti's vessel blowing it to kingdom come.

Twenty seconds later, after it's guests were safely onboard, _The Daniel Jackson_ jumped into hyperspace and headed home.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Two days later: Colorado Springs U.S. Air Force Military Hospital.

The Asgard did what they could for Sam, and got her stabilized. However, since the Replicators had destroyed most of their advanced medical technology, they did the only thing they could, they delivered Sam in critical but stable condition to the SGC. Until that moment, Jack had no idea how vulnerable the Asgard had become, which meant the universe was in one hell of a jam or was that pickle. Dang, he hated clichés.

Few folks knew about Sam's situation. Teal'c filled Jack in on life at the SGC. Apparently Daniel had gotten hooked up with that crazy alien Vala Mal Doran and missed his ride to Atlantis on the Daedalus.

During a phone call, Landry explained how Daniel and a very skeptical Teal'c had agreed to work with Cameron to find the mythical sword Excalibur, etc, etc. When Landry explained that Daniel and Vala had lapsed into comas', Jack asked that Landry keep Sam's condition quiet but keep him apprised regarding Daniel's serious situation.

Teal'c's loyalties were torn between Sam and Daniel. Jack insisted Daniel needed to see Teal'c's smiley face when he awoke. The Jaffa agreed reluctantly. However, shortly after Sam went into surgery, Daniel had been returned to his body within seconds of death. The same went for Vala.

Sam's surgery lasted fourteen hours. It proved to be one of the longest days of Jack's life. Through it all Cassandra, T, and George keep vigil with Jack. That is everyone but Daniel who was still attached at the hip with Vala, whom Landry refused to let off base. Daniel called hourly and kept apologizing for not being there for Jack and Sam.

No doubt about it, Jack wished Space Monkey were here. He'd almost overshot Landry's chain of command, but knew that he'd have done the same were their roles reversed. There was absolutely no reason to trust that flimflamming Vala. Heck, she'd sell her own mother if she could make a buck.

Jack leaned forward, stretched and then cracked his stiff neck. _Day ja view._ Been here done this--again. His butt had long gone numb as he sat in the bedside chair of the Colorado Springs USAF base hospital's ICU ward, watching his wife's slow animated breathing. Every breath initiated by a respirator. This was so fricking unfair. He'd been in this chair before . . . just a different location. He wished they were at the SGC with familiar faces. Then again he and Sam wouldn't be married, nor would this have happened, right? Well, anything was possible.

Caressing the one place of her pale forearm not riddled with IV's, Jack spoke softly to his godsend. He'd repeatedly tried to speak telepathically but with no success. He did a mental count of Sam's injuries. A broken jaw and left cheek bone, right eye socket, cracked collarbone, four broken ribs, shattered left fibula, dislocated right hip, stab wounds to her left lung, punctured kidney and a nicked right aorta of the heart. She'd lost a great deal of blood.

He didn't recall her ever being this seriously injured on any off world mission. Which just made the irony of their situation worse. Since they brought her up from surgery Sam's pale bruised purple facial features hadn't changed. She'd not moved a muscle. The attending physician had placed her in an induced coma to progress the healing process. He said she had less than a thirty percent chance of survival. Heck, Jack mused, that was better than when the Entity had taken her over.

Unaware Jack and Sam were married the doctor had first insisted Jack limit his visits to ten minutes an hour with Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter. After she came out of surgery, the doctor gave Jack Carte blanch. Being head of Homeworld Security had its perks, as did a call from the President of the United States to the hospital administrator.

Although his arm wound required serious stitches and was now secured in a sling, Jack's Ancient body would heal in no time. It was Sam he worried about. Soon as Pete had burst into a ball of fire, Jack had revived Sam then started to heal her. But unlike with Master Bra'tac or when he'd removed the Replicator device from Sam's womb, her complications were more than he could handle at one time. On Thor's ship, he'd passed out trying to heal to her. He humbly realized being an Ancient didn't make him God. Like then, he had an open line of communication with The Keeper of Stars. In the end he had little choice but to place her into His loving hands. Furthermore Jack had to tread carefully at the hospital for fear of exposing his unique abilities.

Cassandra had not left Sam's side until an hour ago when she drove to the SGC to retrieve Charlie whom the Tok'ra had begrudgingly allowed to return in order to see his mother. Of course, Jack's threats to reveal Klorel's escape to the Pentagon seemed to have impacted that diplomatic decision.

Jack stood and stretched his aching back muscles then walked to the door and glanced down the empty corridor to make sure he was alone. He needed to do this before Cassandra and Charlie arrived. The ICU nurse had just stepped out for coffee. That allowed Jack fifteen minutes of quality time to speed up Sam's healing process.

Switching off the lights he removed from his briefcase the hand-healing device with which he'd become more comfortable. He didn't need it to heal Sam but the device allowed him to better sense the progress.

He needed to rid himself of the anger that quelled his healing abilities. Nothing. He'd been so caught up in his concern for Sam and his rage toward those responsible for her condition he'd forgotten the most important thing. This wasn't about his Ancient genes or what he could do. It was about what God would do through him. Bowing his head, Jack prayed for inner peace and to do God's will. As peace washed over him, the healing gift embraced him and a tingling sensation flowed from his chest outward and into his arms, hands and fingers.

Jack healed the puncture in Sam's lung and the artery the surgeon had spent hours reattaching to Sam's heart. He then concentrated on her cheekbone and jaw that was presently wired shut. The thought of Sam not being able to talk for a while did have its beanies and caused him to briefly smile.

As the gray cloud of unconsciousness loomed before him, Jack stopped. He had never been so physically, mentally or emotionally drained in his life. The rest of her injuries would have to wait. Exhausted, he dropped into the chair beside Sam, rested his hand over hers, and dozed.

Sometime later, half asleep, he felt a tingling sensation down his spine. Always a sign something Asgard was about to happen.

"Thor?" He opened his eyes. He'd no sooner spoken, than a vertical shaft of light flashed and Rodney McKay stood just inside the doorway, tugging at his Atlantis uniform and looking nervously around.

"McKay," Jack drawled pushing to his feet.

"General." Rodney acknowledged. "That just never gets old." He pointed over his head and smiled.

"Nope, it doesn't." Jack replied softly. "I thought you'd hitched a ride with Thor to the Daedalus."

"Yeah, we're about to engage hyper-space, but I wanted to um," clenching his hands, the astrophysicist took a hesitant step toward Sam surrounded by medical equipment. Jack watched the younger man's face tense with emotion. "So is she?"

"Holding her own." Jack slipped a soiled blonde curl behind her right earlobe. "Not out of the woods yet, but God willing, she'll pull out of this."

"Yeah. Glad to see you're so optimistic. Wish I had the quality. Unfortunately I deal with numbers and facts and well, the odds aren't in her favor," he said bluntly.

Ready to chew the man out, Jack turned a dark eye on him then stopped as he saw the hopelessness on the physicist's face.

"All things are possible with the Man upstairs," Jack said with certainty.

"Now there's a shocker. I never thought you to be into anything spiritual, especially with all the undeniable evolutionary stuff you've experienced."

Jack smiled and jammed his hands into his front jean pockets. "Well don't get too worried, McKay. I'm still a grumpy old fart with a cynical heart. But there's got to be more to life than what we can analyze or theorize with a chalkboard of equations. If not, why bother to live or explore what's out there?" He nodded skyward. No matter what you believe ya can't take it with you."

"I, err," Obviously uncomfortable with spiritual debates, he glanced back at Sam. "So you'll keep me up to date with her recovery?"

"Of course. Um, if you'd like a moment alone." Jack gestured.

"Sure. But you actually trust me alone with your wife?"

Jack's jaw slackened then snapped shut.

"Gotcha." Rodney preened. "Along with Klorel's observation, I put two and two together at her apartment. Sam never struck me as the shacking-up type. Nor you, General."

"Well there's that." He flinched. "And about the whole blowtorch thingy on Nirrti's ship, I hate to make threats or order you, but—"

"My lips are sealed. Besides, General Landry and General Hammond already impressed the national security threat on me."

"Such as?" Jack suspected but wanted to make sure.

"If I squeal about any of this, I'm on the next flight home from Atlantis and back to the frozen tundra of Russia."

"Ah, yes. My idea." Jack snickered.

"Yeah, figured that."

Grinning, Jack rocked on his heels. "Best let you say goodbye to Sam, before Thor gets antsy and beams you up."

"Thanks." Rodney turned to the bed.

Jack walked toward the door but didn't exist. Not that he was interested hearing McKay confess his undying love. No, Jack didn't leave Sam's side unless he had no choice. When he stole a glance at McKay, he felt for the guy. Rodney was bent over Sam, caressing her face and talking softly, just loud enough Jack heard emotion in the self-centered egomaniac. Who'd have thunk? Then again, Sam brought out the best in people, even one Doctor Rodney McKay. Jack looked at the monitor. When anyone spoke to Sam her heart rate elevated. A good sign, even if it was Rodney.

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Rodney held Sam's hand and tried to restrain his tears and the tremor in his voice. "Okay, so I'm not the lucky chump. But you'd have done a lot worse with that Shanahan nutcase, then the General. So, I'm just asking that you pull through this, Doctor Carter--O'Neill. Cuz, in all honesty, there's no one on Atlantis to challenge me mentally. Well, there's Zelenka but he's a pinhead. Anyways," he cleared his clogged throat, "Even though I can be a self-centered asshole, I care about you, Sam. A lot. Get better so I can show you Atlantis, yeah, that'd be great."

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Jack watched as Rodney straightened and regained his bearings, including a backhanded swipe at his damp eyes.

"Well, General O'Neill." He turned and walked toward Jack.

"McKay." Jack sniffed and rubbed his aching lower back.

"Um, although I don't believe the better man won, I am glad you got her instead of Shanahan."

"I suspect there's a compliment in that twisted remark—somewhere." Jack snorted.

"Yes, somewhere. You take good care of her."

"Of course." Jack gave a tight smile. "Who knows, maybe we'll come visit you in Atlantis."

Rodney's eyes widened with horror but he quickly recovered. "Well, I'm sure Doctor Weir and Colonel Shepard will be glad to see you, sir. And I can show Sam all the technological advances I've single-handedly achieved and —"

Flash! No McKay.

"Yes!" Jack clenched his fist and pumped his arm. "Saved by the bell," then settled in the chair beside his wife and caressed her cold fingertips. "You have no idea how much that pompous ass annoys me, Sam."

She squeezed back. "Well, I'll be da—Whoops, sorry. Still working on that swearing thingy, Dorothy." She squeezed again and he snagged his lower lip to hold back tears. "You sleep, Carter. That's an order."

Her hold relaxed and he closed his eyes a few minutes. An hour later, yawning, he glanced at his watch and wondered what happened to his kids. They should have been here by now.

As if on cue, they entered the private room. The attending nurse turned to remove them.

"He's her son." Jack explained.

"Oh, sorry," the nurse acknowledged Charlie. "I'll be outside if you need me, General."

"Thanks." He nodded. Cassandra came to his side, Jack watched Charlie's handsome face pale as he approached his unconscious mother.

Cass snatched Jack's hand and whispered, "He's scared and angry, Dad. Please . . .?"

"Sure thing." He stepped quietly to where Charlie stood and slipped his arm around Charlie's broad shoulders. Jack thought Sam looked better since he'd used the healing device, but no doubt, he'd grown accustom to the fact that she look very little like the Samantha Carter their son had last seen.

"For crying out loud!" Charlie buckled but Jack caught him and held on tight.

"She's going to get through this, son."

Wordless, Charlie turned into him and hung on. "I want to kill them!"

"Already done," said Jack matter factually.

"But Shanahan's alive."

"Yes, barely."

"Why?" Charlie swiped a wet eye and faced Jack with a look of disgust.

"He holds key Intel about the TRUST."

"I don't give a rip about the TRUST. I want him dead, vaporized!"

"Me too." Jack confessed remembering that had Teal'c not intervened Pete would have long been ash. "But if we can't extract information from him, all of this, including what your mom's suffered will be for nothing, Charlie."

"General O'Neill," the nurse reentered the room.

"What?" he looked over his son's trembling shoulder.

"Mr. Shanahan is conscious and has requested to speak to you."

"Thanks, I'll be there."

"Let me come with you." Charlie insisted glancing at Sam's bandaged form.

"No. This is official business, son. You stay with Cass and your mom." He turned and smiled down at Sam. "Talk and touch her, Charlie. Let her know you're here. Give her another reason to live."

His son shuddered with emotion. "She looks so fragile, so broken." He sobbed, his gaze resting on the leg and hip cast.

The sound of the ventilator continued to rise and lower, making a whooshing sound. A tear wet Jack's cheek, but his stern tone was that of a commanding officer addressing a lower ranking officer.

"Cut the whining, son. Your mother is neither fragile nor broken. She's Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter O'Neill and she needs you to be strong for her."

Cassandra walked up to them and took one of Charlie's damp hands. "Hey, little bro, let's do this together." She directed their hands to Sam's left arm.

Jack watched as they caressed her forearm and moved down to her palm. Charlie let go of Cassandra and coiling his fingers around Sam's frigid ones, leaned forward and kissed the one spot of her face not bandaged. "Hey, mom, it's me, your Retu Charlie, and I'm not going anywhere until you're up and about ya hear."

Several moments of stilted silence passed and then to everyone's surprise, Sam clutched his hand and her good eye flickered just long enough for her to focus on her son. She then coughed into the ventilation tube, before she closed her eyes.

"Wow!" Charlie turned to Jack and Cassandra's surprised expressions. "She heard me."

"Sweet." Jack backhanded his tears of joy.

"General?" the nurse was back.

"Yeah, coming. Meanwhile get the doc in here ASAP. My wife just opened her eyes and coughed."

"That's impossible. She's in an induced coma?" the nurse gaped.

"Not anymore!" Cassandra said hugging Charlie.

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At Shanahan's door, Jack nodded at the two SF guards and entered the secured dimly lit infirmary room. He found agent Barrett nodding off in a chair. The younger man came to attention and shot upright at Jack's presence.

"Agent Barrett." Jack acknowledged wearingly and walked past him to the hospital bed.

"General O'Neill." He smiled briefly then glanced with concern at the patient. Although Barrett didn't know he and Sam were romantically involved, let alone married, he knew Sam's critical condition and had checked with the desk nurse numerous times.

Jack knew the agent had been briefed on everything, including how Pete got burned. No doubt Barrett worried Jack might want to finish what he'd started. It took great willpower to face the man responsible for his wife being tortured. But Jack felt angrier with himself for not having protected her. He'd known Pete was dangerous but had no idea to what degree, let alone he'd been a part of Nirrti's rat pack and the Trust.

His left hand clenched, he lorded over Pete's hospital bed. He really wanted to kill the SOB but that meant Pete would go to his grave with important information needed on the TRUST and Baal.

"He's conscious again, General, but . . ." Barrett frowned.

"But what?" he rolled his tight aching shoulders and glanced at the burnt remains in the bed. All but his eyes and mouth were bandaged. Jack remembered Daniel's fatal exposure to radiation three years before. Apparently the flames Jack had created were radioactive. Interestingly, no one, not even Teal'c had been exposed.

"The doctors have done everything possible. It's a miracle he's made it this long, sir."

"Has he said anything?"

"Yeah, mostly gibberish. But he told me he's been on the TRUST payroll for over two years, back to when they were part of the NID. The Colonel wasn't his first assignment. Apparently he has a gift of charming women."

"Whatever. If he's on his last breath let's interrogate him now."

"Yes. I requested an FBI dictation secretary to . . ."

"Not necessary." Jack removed a hand held tape recorder. "The less ears, the less cleanup we'll have."

"Understood, sir." Barrett agreed. "Um, before we start. How's Sam, I mean Colonel Carter?"

"Critical but stable." Jack's answer sounded automated.

"Um, well, would it be possible to see her? I mean, if that's all right, General?"

Jack closed his eyes and exhaled. He wanted to say no, but knew the agent had feelings for Sam. Barrett was a good man and Jack wouldn't deny him five minutes with his wife. If he could stomach McKay, he could sure handle Barrett. "Sure. But let's get this over with first."

The agent nodded. "Thank you, sir. And, General?"

Jack gave his 'what' look.

"I'm glad that Sam finally has you in her life and not as her CO."

Jack stared then blinked. They'd yet been given permission to go public. How did—?

"Since this case is a matter of national security, the President told me everything, sir."

"Everything?" Jack swallowed.

"Well, I'm sure he left out a lot," his lips twitched and Jack thought to see a smirk.

"I see. Well just remember that top-secret national security thingy. Otherwise, I'll have to shoot you." Jack winked.

"Promise, General." Barrett smiled back. They held each other's gazes in understanding.

Sniffing, Jack turned and addressed the sleeping man with a firm authoritative voice. "Shanahan?"

The former police detective opened his bloodshot eyes and blinked a few times before he focused on them. Jack set the tape-recorder on the bedside table.

"O'Neill . . . " Pete spoke above a whisper, "Sam . . . alive?"

Jack refused to answer, clenched his teeth and nodded to Barrett who proceeded to read Shanahan his rights.

"You have the right to remain silent anything you say may be used against you . . ."

"Will -- talk." Shanahan ended Barrett's legal litany.

"We'd like that," Jack said nicer than he felt. "Who you working for?"

"The TRUST." He coughed blood.

Jack's brows meshed.

"Yeah, you realize the Goa'uld control the TRUST?" Barrett asked.

"No!" Pete insisted and his vitals raced.

"Yes!" Jack argued back. "You were there, you saw Nirrti at work with Klorel."

"I'm undercover for CIA," he whispered.

Barrett and Jack exchanged skeptical glances.

"It's possible. I'll check it out." Barrett shrugged.

"Okay, now tell us what the TRUST wanted from Colonel Carter and myself and Cassandra Fraiser?"

"Ancient DNA." Pete breathed harder.

"They already had that, General." Barrett speculated too accurately. "There has to be more to this."

"I know." Jack dragged a hand through his hair.

"Sam okay?" Pete asked through the onset of chain stoke breaths.

"Why do you care?" Jack snorted.

"Lo-ove e-er." his watery eyes held Jack's furious gaze.

"What do you know about love, you son of a b—?" Hands stretched out, Jack leaned in for the kill. He didn't need Ancient powers to strangle the man.

"General?" Barrett intervened before the monitor began to beep. Pete went into cardiac arrest.

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Pete Shanahan died with his secrets. Which meant they were no closer discovering the headman behind Pete's mission to abduct Sam and Jack. Although the most obvious candidate was Baal, there was no proof.

Sam was semi-conscious and breathing on her own. The doctor intern had removed the respirator and one IV. Jack kept his promise for Barrett to spend a few moments alone with her. When he'd exited her room it was apparent the younger man had been crying. Amazingly, Jack had yet to shed many tears. He felt all dried up inside and wondered if he'd ever cry.

"She's asking for you," Barrett said as he picked up his jacket and turned to Jack.

"What?" Shocked, Jack didn't bother to thank the man and rushed into the room, where the staff doctor and nurse were discussing Sam's progress.

"I don't believe it, sir." The intern smiled across at him. "We induced this coma and she's fighting to come out of it."

"Great! Can I . . ." he motioned to Sam who had more color in her bruised cheeks.

"Sure, but just a moment. She needs rest."

"Our son and daughter went to the cafeteria. Can you page them?" he asked the nurse, realizing he'd admitted they were his kids, not giving a hoot.

"Of course." She smiled and exited the room.

Jack waited until the Intern left then brushed a damp curl from his wife's forehead. "Sam, Hon, it's me Jack."

She mumbled slightly and opened her eyes. The brightest gray-blue gaze he'd ever hoped to see stared back at him.

"Cass?" she rasped with a sore throat.

"She's safe."

She nodded slightly. "You?" she whispered.

"Hey, I'm fine." He felt her focus on his bandaged arm. "It's healing." Sam would think about everyone else but herself.

"Hurt." She winced. "Drink?" she focused on the water cup and straw he'd picked up.

Jack put the straw to her parched lips and lifted her head for her to swallow. "You were seriously injured, Babe." He soothed her with words and caresses. "But you're going to pull through and—"

Her attending physician and the surgeon stormed the room. Sam stopped drinking and Jack eased her head back on the pillow.

"How could this have happened?" the doctors talked between themselves.

Jack smiled and stepped back, but not before winking at his wife. Then he heard her in his head.

'_Jack?'_

'_What, Dorothy?'_

'I would have died . . . you saved me.'

'_I didn't do it alone.' _

'_No you didn't.'_ She yawned inside her head as the doctors rechecked her vitals and ordered another CAT SCAN.

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Jack's townhouse, Washington, DC: Four months later:

With her head on straighter Cassandra had returned to college and Charlie had begrudgingly returned to work with the Tok'ra last month. In some ways, Charlie and his Tok'ra counterpart had replaced Jacob/Selmak and now a fragile line of communication had formed between Earth and the Tok'ra.

However, on the day Charlie left, Jack didn't know who had suffered most, him or Sam. They'd had little time to bond with their Retu son, but managed to make the most of every moment he'd been with them. Also, the love and sibling rivalry between Cassandra and Charlie had proved a much needed distraction for Sam during her long grueling rehabilitation.

For now, life was back to normal. Well, as normal as their lives would ever be. Basically the honeymoon was over. Not that they'd ever had one. Jack had plans but didn't know when they'd ever get to 'Disney World.' _Hey, some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this. . ._Jack did a singsong of the ditty in his head. After all, he had never been there and neither had Sam.

Per usual the newest bad guys, the Or-eye, were badgering Earth. Landry had requested Sam report to the SGC for temporary off world duty. Jack had said no way, two hours ago and had no intention to change his mind. Hank swore that Samantha Carter was all that stood between Earth and the wicked ascended beings. Not in Jack's world. Let them find another brilliant mind to blow up a sun or whatever.

He realized he'd not exactly handled the call in a professional manner, especially with Sam sleeping beside him. The fact, she'd not awoken or probed his mind like she usually did made him worry, but he wasn't about to bring up the matter if she didn't.

It was now 0710 and just feet away in the bathroom Sam prepared for her first day back at Nellis AFB and Area 51. After having shared a shower with some early morning delight, Jack escaped their small bathroom in order for Sam to do whatever females do for an eternity after they shower. Lounging in bed, he attempted to steal a few more ZZs before he would personally deliver Sam via the X302 and then fly back to D.C. He didn't have to be in the office today until ten am and planned to take advantage of the extra snooze time. Besides, he and Sam had been catching up on months of missed lovemaking and she'd worn him out. Not that he'd admit that to her.

Unfortunately, listening to Sam sing off key was no lullaby, but it did make him smile in his zoned-out state of mind. Lying on his stomach with a towel wrapped around his hips, and his face pressed into Sam's pillow, he heard her sing the annoying ditty—again, "Sit on my face and tell me you love me. . ." She only knew the first line. He should teach her the rest. Nah.

His cellular rang. Jack fumbled for the phone on the floor and brought it to his ear. "Whaat?" he said through a yawn loaded with annoyance.

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

"Well?"

"The answers still no."

"Hey, at least let me talk to her."

"So not going to happen, Space Monkey." He rolled onto his back and stretched.

"We need her, and--" Daniel rattled on. Jack made a vulgar gesture and dropped the phone. Swinging his legs over the bed's side, he sat upright and scratched his bare stomach, then poked at his belly button. Fuzz? How'd that get there? Heck, he'd just showered.

"Jack, are you even listening to me?"

"Trying—not," He reclaimed the phone, pressed the speakerphone option and searched for his military boots among other missing items of attire that had been flung around the room last night.

"Landry's going to call again."

"Shaking in my boots," Jack snorted.

"You can't keep saying no."

"Read my lips. No!"

"That's not your decision to make. It should be Sam's."

"Need I remind you I am the boss-man, Daniel? Your boss, Hank's boss, everyone's boss." Ah, there was that missing boot. Jack dropped to his knees while Daniel continued to plead his case.

"Jack, I think that newest promotion fried your brain."

"My brains just fine, Daniel."

"Well if you saw firsthand what the Ori are capable of, you wouldn't be such a self-centered jackass. The free Jaffa needs our help and Sam's the best hope we have—"

"And this is her first day back to work—at R&D, Daniel. She's not ready for active field duty and you know it. Even the doctors said she needs to ease back into things."

"Not according to the latest medical report from Doctor Lamb. Sam's in the best physical shape ever. Apparently some hard assed General tormented and coached her into recovery in half the time it'd take anyone else."

"Whatever." Hey, there was the missing green sock from last week. Jack snatched it up and smiled. He hated when he had mixed matched pairs.

"Jack, the Ori have taken over the planet of Kallana, and a Prior built an invisible force field around the gate and it appears to be drawing energy from—"

"I know. Landry told me."

"And you haven't told Sam?" Daniel sounded miffed.

"Nope. Hey, did you ever find the answer to that crossword puzzle question, the one about a nut and the missing link? Sam won't give me the answer."

"No, Jack, I've been slightly distracted. First I had a female man-eater attached to my hip—still do, almost got squashed, then barbecued, and now these Ori with chalky bad complexions want to take over the galaxy. So, no, I didn't get to your stupid crossword puzzle! But I bet if you wrote your name in the squares it'd fit."

"Oy, down big fellow." Prone on his stomach, Jack reached and yanked the lone boot out from under the tall dresser. Every time he and Sam replayed the Broca virus, things got wild and their bedroom got trashed. He smiled at the evidence which included half of their bedding, along with a knocked over lamp on the floor, Fortunately the lamp had survived their wild foreplay. Jack picked it up and placed it on the bedside table.

"You're a real piece of work, Jack!"

"Thanks. I'm also a husband, Daniel, protecting my --."

"Property?" the tense feminine voice came from behind him. Jack gulped and expected to feel a slender size eight foot shoved up his butt.

"Um," he stood to find Sam holding the phone and glaring at him.

"Daniel?" she asked softly.

"Sam?"

"Yep. I'll call you back in a few," she said too calmly into the phone.

"Um, yes, well, okay. Hey, don't hurt him too bad, he's just trying to--"

She shut off the phone and tossed it onto the bed.

"So?" Jack shrugged holding his boot as if it would protect him from a scorned mad scientist. "How much'd you hear?"

"Enough." She calmly walked to their closet, slipping off her robe.

"Hey, I didn't mean that the way it sounded." Boy, was he in trouble. He rummaged a hand through his damp hair and approached her guardedly.

"And just how was that suppose to sound, sir?"

Woops! "Sam, you've barely recovered and. . ."

"When did General Landry ask for my assistance?"

Jack grit his teeth then sighed. "Three hours ago . . .max." He held up four fingers.

"And when did you plan to tell me?" She walked over to her cell-phone and searched for missed calls. Jack had turned her ringer off after Landry's first call to him. She identified the unanswered calls from the SGC then frowned.

"He's rung you twice since then." Jack blew out between his lips, "Then called me-again."

"Ah." She turned the cellular back on and dropped it into her purse. She removed her class A uniform from the closet, turned and rolled her eyes at him. "Daniel's right. You are a real piece of work, Major General O'Neill."

"Hey, they've got Doctor Lee, Felger, and half a dozen other brainy geeks. Besides you're needed at R&D. If you recall, that's where you asked to be assigned. And I honored your request, Colonel." He crossed his arms as if his CO persona kicking into gear would level the playing field.

Sam proceeded to dress in silence. That she'd chosen her dress blues complicated by the fact that she wasn't arguing. However when she turned to face him, Jack met that Carter-kick-ass-look in her gray blues. Sure, he'd lost the battle, but it didn't mean he would go down with the preverbal sinking ship.

"You can't fly the 302 in Class A's, Samantha."

"Who said I was flying anywhere?"

"Oy!"

"I'm not needed there, Jack."

"Um, where?" He'd dragged this out as long as possible.

"Nellis, AFB. Area 51. True, I love managing R&D."

"Oh, yeah, tinkering your heart out," he slid on his BDU slacks and zipped up as he spoke with encouragement. "Playing with alien gadgets and doohickeys, and--"

"I want to go to the SGC, Jack." She buttoned up her pristine white blouse and smoothed down the lapels, then tucked the blouse into her skirt.

"Samantha?" he tried not to beg.

She snatched his BDU shirt off the hanger and walked over to him, then helped him slip into the starched button-down that he rarely tucked in, even at the Pentagon. Unless he had no choice, he always left his Class A's at the office and only dressed up when he had too.

Sam's small hands smoothed down the military shirtfront and retraced their journey to rest over his fast beating heart. "Jack, as a woman, I am flattered by your desire to protect me."

"You are?" he suspiciously glinted down at her. Something was rotten in Demark and it wasn't Swiss cheese.

"Yes. Of course. I've always loved it, even when as my CO you'd put yourself between me and harms way."

"Um, let me remind you that I'd do that for anyone, Carter." Her sweet words wouldn't hoodwink him. "And I know how much you hated when I did step between you and a Goa'uld staff weapon."

"Okay, so kick-butt Colonel Sam Carter hated that, while Samantha O'Neill, who being in love with her CO felt loved and protected by her husband."

"Good try." He rolled his eyes and captured her fingers. "I'm not reassigning you to SG-1, Carter."

"No, you're not." She didn't miss a beat. "Because SG-1 has been disbanded, sir."

"Not if Mitchell has any say in the matter. He's already got Daniel and Teal'c under his spell. Now if he can rope you in . . ." he trailed off with a tone of disgust.

"Only one man has ever roped me in, sir. And he's standing right here in our bedroom, being a mulish overprotective jerk."

"Am not."

"Are too." She reached up and kissed his tensed blue-shadowed jaw. "I love you, Jack, but I want to do this. Daniel sounded pretty concerned. What's going on?"

"Samantha?" he pulled away and shook his head.

"Okay, answer me honestly. Who is best qualified to assist the SGC with this present Ori threat?"

Jack gaped. No fancy scientific mumbo jumbo, just a straight out question he could comprehend. He hated when she did that.

"Well?" she crossed her arms over her firm round breasts, that distracted him.

"Hey, that's an unfair tactical maneuver."

"Why?" She walked to the chair, sat down and slipped into her black military heels, then smoothed her hands up her pantyhose clad legs—slowly--to her tanned thighs. His gaze settled on those long beautiful legs. Dang, she was evil!

"And that's just plain dirty." He stalked by her toward the bed reminding John-John he couldn't come out to play.

"Sorry," Sam giggled softly then turned serious. "You didn't answer my question, General O'Neill."

"You, of course." He slumped onto their unmade bed, dragged a hand over his face and through his hair then scrunched his face, which caused his dimples to slash deep alongside his mouth. He knew she loved his 'God, help me look,' plus his dimples, the combination of which, shattered her defenses. _Yeah, Carter, two can play this cat and mouse game,_ he spoke in her head. "But then, you knew I'd say that."

"Yes." She caved in, "Those dimples do it every time."

"If you say so," he milked his deadpan expression for all it was worth. "Dangit all, Carter. We left the SGC to be together and what you want is so not together." He tossed his hands in the air.

"What?" she looked confused.

"Well, I'm just saying. . ." his hands directed traffic.

"I'm not asking for a fulltime reassignment to the SGC, sir." Her military tone insisted. "Just consider it provisional, General." He expected her to salute him. Thankfully she didn't.

"Provisional?" His brows did a caterpillar dance across his forehead. "You mean just this once?" He pushed to his feet and walked toward her flagging his pointer fingers for affect and giving her the scrutinizing O'Neill eye.

"Yes." She did her adorable Turtle Dove chin-tuck that always shattered his diehard military mindset.

His memories too fresh from their encounter with Shanahan and Nirrti, he pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. "Your old man doesn't know if he can do this anymore, Mrs. O'Neill."

"Do what?" she asked against his chest, even though they knew the answer.

"Let you go through the gate. Not be there with you and watch your six," his voice bottomed out.

"I know, Jack. But I want this."

"Ya think?" he snorted.

"Remember our relationship is based on trust. So trust my judgment to know I can help the SGC battle this oily Prior dude."

"Oily Prior dude?" He pulled back and winced. "Maybe we do need a little away time from each other, huh?"

Sam nodded and he saw the sparkle in her blue eyes. A sparkle he knew too well. He'd not seen that look in months, and if he were honest not since before SG-1 disbanded. He couldn't hold her back. Not then, not now. Besides this was just temporary, right? _Let her fly, Jack._

"Fine." He surrendered. "Starting now, you have a transitory assignment to the SGC, Colonel."

"Um, just fine?" She glanced up at his less than smiling face. "I was hoping for an, excellent, sweet, ya sure youbetcha, go kick some royal Ori ass, Carter!"

"Don't push it, woman." He chuckled, hugging her closer, his fingers playing with her fine blonde hair that she'd been growing out—for him, while his other hand caressed her back and shoulders with possessive urgency.

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Feeling his swift beating heart against her head, Sam sensed the tension within her husband/CO. No doubt, she'd just asked a lot of him. Their bond had grown so strong that sometimes it was hard to know where Samantha Carter started and Jack O'Neill ended. They truly were one in heart, body, mind, and soul, their ancient genetics intricately fused. Nor would she have it any other way. However, she knew as did Jack, they each needed their space. If they didn't, they'd start to resent their Ancient bond and each other. She sometimes wondered if the reason the Ancients had ascended/died out, was due to lack of individuality, a sense of purpose. She couldn't imagine life with out Jack, nor could she imagine not being Colonel Samantha Jean Carter.

This was a critical turning point in their marriage. She'd thought she could be happy working at R&D, and had been for a while, really. But ever since Cameron Mitchell asked her to rejoin SG-1, Sam had become discontent, itching for active field duty. She'd never once told Jack. Big mistake. When Nirrti and her motley crew of clones hijacked them, Sam had secretly been elated—well until she got the crap beaten out of her.

Since that horrible incident with Nirrti, she and Jack had hardly been out of one another's sight. Mostly Jack's decision. He'd taken a six-week leave from the Pentagon, during which time General Hammond handled Jack's duties as head of HS. Jack personally oversaw Sam's rehab, putting every Marine Drill instructor to shame. He not only coached her, he participated in all her exercises. Her fifty plus year old General had run her into the ground, literally.

Although he'd never tell her, she knew Jack had grown physically lax during his stint in D.C., and he wasn't going to let that happen again. Meanwhile, he became a badgering CO barking at her to get off her dead assets and do another ten bench presses, another jog around the track, add another five pounds to her weight lifting exercises, etc. He motivated her like no one ever could. There definitely was a fine line between love and hate.

She couldn't recall how many times she had wanted to shove a fist down his throat or beat the living crap out of him. Actually, there was that time boxing match last month when she purposely hit his straw jaw and sent him down for the count. She still smiled at the memory of watching his chocolate brown eyes roll back into his silver head with his stupid duh look before he hit the floor face first.

Teal'c had reefed that match. After he'd checked Jack's pulse and then counted to ten, Teal'c looked up at Sam and announced with a wide Jaffa grin. "I believe you have regained your mojo, Colonel Carter. However, I believe the General will need sufficient R&R to recover from this blow to his ego."

His ego survived and the next day Jack returned to the Pentagon. Meanwhile Sam had been monitoring R&D from her laptop for several weeks. Today, she was to go fulltime. That was until the Ori had dropped in on Kallana yesterday. Originally, she only heard about the SGC missions through Jack, which wasn't much. What he didn't know was she'd talked with Cameron twice last week and General Landry last night when Jack had gone to the grocery store. The fact, they'd been playing head games was wrong. She'd purposely not told him that Landry had contacted her because she wanted to see how Jack would handle the matter. Her feminine side felt flattered, and her military side, insulted. The Jack O'Neill who'd been her CO over eight years would never have withheld such pertinent Intel from her. She hoped.

Jack cradled her face in his hands and smiled down at her. "I love you more than life, Dorothy."

"I know, Scarecrow." She brushed her dry lips across the palm of his calloused hand, inhaling the familiar scent of her man and surrendered to the physical affects his scent had on her. She felt the butterflies dance inside her belly and her legs tremble like blue Jell-O. After all their time together, he still made her feel nineteen again. She could visualize the younger brown-haired Jack O'Neill, only known to her then as Scarecrow. See him smile passionately at her through the blue mists of Nirrti's mating chamber, before he'd taken her as his lover.

Had Jack any idea what his sultry gaze or touch still did to her? Twenty years later, did he experience the same physical feelings for her?

"Yes," he nodded and swiped a maverick tear from her right eye with a gentle fingertip. "I do, Dorothy, always."

Not realizing she'd started to cry, Sam sniffed and blinked up at him. He'd been inside her head and she'd not even known it, which meant she'd invited him, right? It didn't matter. What mattered was that he knew.

"C'mere." His left hand encircled her waist and his right hand drew her into a slow dance on their carpeted floor. Jack pressed his face into the arch of her neck and his lips lingered on her pulse point while he hummed, Que Sera Sera.

Sam held onto her husband as if her life depended on him. It did. Her mind flashed back to when Hathor had put Jack in the deep freeze and how he'd clung to Sam after being revived. He'd not only held her because he was cold but he'd needed her like she needed him now, like the air she breathed.

Her decision to help the Jaffa meant this could be the last time they ever held each other. Jack knew that, and she softly cried her regrets. She couldn't do this to the man she loved, put herself in danger when they'd had barely a year together as husband and wife. She would call, Landry and say--

"No Starbucks this morning or the Opera this weekend, huh?" Jack's upbeat tone was her answer. He loved her enough to let her fly.

"Both in holding pattern," she leaned into his warm embrace, drawing strength from him.

"Lots of crazies out there, Carter. Be careful wilya?"

"Promise. After all, I've got a husband and family to come home to." She winked.

"Sweet." Jack kissed her. Hot and sensual, a kiss that demanded she keep her promise. She returned his kiss with equal measure.

The phone rang and Jack reluctantly eased out of her embrace and brought the phone to his ear.

"Now what?"

The other side spoke. Jack snorted. "What is it about the word, _no_, that you don't understand, Hank?"

Sam smirked and buttoned up her dress blue jacket, finger combed her hair and spot-checked her makeup. She then recalled Jack's retort to Daniel, _"I'm also a husband, protecting my wife."_ How did she convey that their marriage should never come between them when duty called? How did she tell him something he had drilled into her head for eight long years, but now refused to address? Perhaps, from the sound of his one-sided conversation she wouldn't have to.

Jack pressed the speaker button, rolled his eyes then went to the dresser's top drawer and removed an Asgard transport stone. He handed it over to her. Accepting the handy device, Sam kissed his weathered cheek and he pulled her into his arms.

"Hold that thought, Hank." He turned on the mute button, kissed Sam soundly then mouthed against her lips, "I love you."

"Forever and always—Um, we okay, Jack?" She smiled into his brown eyes that she swore were moist with tears.

"Yeah, we're forever okay, Babe."

Sam smiled.

"However, you owe me three rounds in the sack, Carter." He motioned to their rumpled bed.

Sam's mouth dropped open.

"Or don't you think you can handle this old flyboy?" he challenged and playfully slapped her derriere.

"You're on, sir," she said through a suggestive twitch of her lips.

"Cool." He wagged his brows and his dimples tucked deep along side his lean mouth.

"Thank you, for this assignment, General O'Neill," she meant it and saluted.

"You're, welcome, Colonel Carter." He saluted, and then addressed Hank with that wicked look on his handsome face that always meant trouble. "Um, you were saying, Hank?"

"I'm saying this is serious shit, Jack, and I need Colonel Carter now!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, she's just gotten back on her feet and you're expecting her to save the fricking galaxy—again!"

"Jack . . .Jack . . .Jack! She practically invented the Mark 9 and you're the one who thinks we should use the damn thing! Why are you wasting valuable time saying no?"

"Because she's my wife and should be home doing wifey things."

"Wifey things?" Sam slugged him hard in the arm before stepping out of his reach.

"Ow! I mean," he flinched and rubbed his bruised limb. "She's not blowing up anymore suns." He winked while Landry raved on.

"And I've read enough of your SG-1 mission reports to know that there were times when no one else but Samantha Carter could have pulled your ass out of the fire. Well this is . . ."

Sam pressed the Asgard stone and waved goodbye to her husband. Seconds later she arrived in a burst of white light just outside Landry's opened office door. At least she hadn't materialized inside of a wall. In transit toward the General's office Walter almost lost his armful of folders, when he witnessed Sam's Asgard arrival.

She watched the shorter man collect his wits, smile, and salute, "Welcome back, Colonel Carter," and then he gestured to the open door.

"Thanks, Walter."

Sam marched into the office and heard Landry, " . . .One of those times." The General turned to the door, gawked at her and shook his head realizing he was the victim of another O'Neill prank.

"Reporting as ordered, sir," she saluted and smiled, slipping the stone into her pocket.

General Landry snorted. ". . .Yeah. . .she's standing right here. You're a funny man, Jack."

Sam grinned as Landry signaled her at ease.

"Very funny," Hank ended, then hung up on Jack and smiled at her. "Well, after having kissed his ass for the last few hours, I don't want to know what you promised him, but I'll be forever grateful, Colonel."

"Rest assured, General, you won't ever know." Sam smiled wider. As adrenaline spiraled through her, she knew in her heart, she wanted this to be more than a temporary assignment, however convincing Jack, would be one of the hardest missions of her life.

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After Hank had slammed the phone in Jack's ear, he speed-dialed Daniel, changed his mind and dialed Mitchell first. He'd leave Landry for last. Yes, time for to play the big bad Major General.

"Colonel Mitchell here."

"At ease, Cameron."

"General O'Neill, sir?"

"That'd be me, Colonel." Jack finished picking up the bedroom and sat down to yank on his boots.

"So um, what do I owe this honor, sir?"

Jack smiled into the phone and waggled his brows. _Yes, this will be fun. _"You got your wish, son."

"I did, sir?"

"Yes. Colonel Carter arrived a few moments ago, should be in Landry's office." Jack glanced at his watch and visualized Cameron racing through the SGC toward his CO's office. Another smile.

"Gosh, golly, that's terrific, sir!"

"Chill, Cameron. Now let's set a few rules of engagement, shall we?"

"Yes, sir."

"This assignment for Carter is transitory, impermanent, short-term as in _temporary_. Soon as that self-proclaimed pompous Ore-Eye prophet becomes dust, so does the Colonel's assignment with you."

"Oh—I'd thought--."

"Don't think, listen!"

"Um, yes, sir." Jack imagined the younger man saluting in mid-stride.

"After said assignment she will return to Nellis and her position as head of R&D, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Mitchell?"

"General, sir?"

"As senior officer and supervisor of SG-1, you are responsible for Colonel Carter's welfare."

"I understand that, sir, actually I'd thought we'd share the position and--."

"Not this time. I know you and Carter are equals, Colonel. However, because of your need to scratch an itch instigated this mission you'll lead, but with the utmost respect for Carter's proven leadership qualities and amazing brilliance."

"Thank you, sir, you won't regret this!"

"Don't crow ahead of time, Mitchell. I'm not thrilled that with your lack of active field duty or black ops, Landry actually assigned you to lead SG-1."

"Be assured, I'm a quick learner, sir. Besides, it was you who told me to get the gang back together," he sounded insecure. "Sir." _Cool!_

"Oh, hell, Mitchell, I didn't think you'd actually follow through on that lame brain suggestion." Jack paused, had he just labeled himself lame brained? Oh, well. "However, the fact you did just that means that you've got big balls and that I do respect. As for Carter, see that she returns alive and in one piece. If not, your ass will be mine, as in permanent reassignment to Antarctica. Basically, you'll never gate travel, again. Understood?"

Jack heard a distinct intake of air and an audible gulp. "Yes. . .Of course. You can count on me, sir. I'll watch Sam's, I mean Colonel Carter's six like it was mine own, sir."

"You do that." With a smug grin, Jack hung up, and dialed Daniel.

"Hey, Jack, I hear Sam's back."

"Temporarily. One assignment." Jack stated sternly.

"Sure. Um, okay. Hey, was that you talking to Mitchell just now?"

"Yep. Why?"

"He just ran into the head looking pretty pale and is now taking a dump. Argh! That smells like the runs. Whatcha say to the poor man?"

"What I'm about to say to you . . . " And so it went.

A week later:

Sam sat in her cluttered lab and glanced at the clock. Even though she'd see him in a few hours, she couldn't resist and dialed his cell phone. Two rings later he picked up and she could hear the smile in his voice, which made her smile.

"Hey, Carter, whatcha doing?"

"Talking to you, flyboy."

"Just checking. So, miss me?"

"Yes, and you?"

"Um, yeah, but it'd be a lot nicer with you here."

"Weekend's coming in two hours. Be patient, General."

"Hey, patience's my middle name."

"I thought it was James."

"Funny." He snorted.

"I thought so."

"So'd I miss anything 'side's the Baal triplets debut, which I recall we foresaw coming months ago?"

"Well, sorta," she led him on.

"Um, besides that amazing skyscraper fireworks in outer space?" he teased.

"Yes but something more down to earth, personal," she baited.

"Did Baal hit on you again and if so, which one?"

"Nope. No Baals."

"Samantha?"

"Agent Barrett asked if I was single again."

"For crying out loud, will that man ever give it up!"

"Now, Jack—"

"But you emphatically told him, no, right?"

"Not exactly." Yep, that'd get arise out of him. She smiled into the phone.

"Aw, crap!"

It did.

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On the other end, Jack smiled at her head game and after they'd shared a few lustful-plans-for-the-night exchanges, he hung up, and propped his polished boots on the mahogany desk.

Little did his wife know that true to his word, Barrett hadn't revealed his knowledge of Sam and Jack's personal involvement, and hopefully hadn't let on about Shanahan. Nevertheless, Jack wished the agent would stop flirting with his wife. After Sam came out of the coma and begun her long three-month rehab, she had some memory glitches. For one she didn't know Pete had been involved in her abduction or that he had used her. Jack couldn't stand to see her hurt again. Rather she believed Pete had dated and loved her for who she was and not the Intel she could provide. As head honcho of HW Jack made sure that Sam didn't see his or Teal'c's mission reports.

Good old Teal'c had no problem protecting Sam. Landry and George were a little harder to convince, but in the end agreed to circumvent the issue. Jack sugarcoated Pete's involvement making it appear that he too had been abducted the same time McKay was. Pete died a hero, defending Sam. If all went as Jack planned, it'd stay that way. More importantly, now that Sam had saved the world--again, she'd be reporting back to Nellis, safe and sound, and warming Jack's bed every other night.

Of course, that's so not how it went down—Crap!


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

A month later, Jack's house, Colorado Springs:

Tonight they'd talk and God willing, not argue—again. Sam had been at the SGC a month longer than agreed. Bad enough she'd secretly moved back into her lab. Were it not for Daniel's drunken blabbing last weekend over the phone, Jack wouldn't have even known that much. Well, there'd been Teal'c's heavy-handed suggestion he make a surprised visit to the SGC, very soon, and stop by Sam's lab.

And then there was Landry's broken recorded litany of how great it was with Sam back at the mountain, not to mention, Colonel Mitchell's overt attitude that reminded him way too much of one annoying, smiley faced, Jonas Quinn. One more phone call of, "With all due respect, General O'Neill, sir, I request you assign Colonel Carter to the SGC, sir? Please? You've no idea what a priceless asset she is and might I say that without her brilliant mind, we'd never have kicked Baal's multiple asses blah, blah."

Yeah, Jack had no grand delusions of what his wife had yet to discuss, her going fulltime at the SGC, primarily rejoining SG-1. After all, she'd been through she missed the action. Heck, so did he, but things were different now. They were married. They wanted kids and normalcy. He could even handle her replacing Doctor Lee and leading the SGC Physics Department, just as long as she stayed on this side of the gate.

The doorbell chimed. Having taken a break from the cooking supper, Jack glanced at his watch and yawned. Sam wasn't to arrive for another hour. Maybe Landry left her out early on good behavior. Then again, she had a key. Figuring she'd misplaced it, he hit the TV's mute button and swung his bare legs off the sofa and then strolled to the door. The buzzer rang again.

"Hold your undomesticated equines, Carter." He glanced through the foyer's curtained window and blinked at a familiar face, then hurried to the door.

"Agent Barrett?" Jack cracked the door ajar just far enough to peer at the man.

"General O'Neill, we need talk?"

"Can't this wait until Monday at my office, at the Pentagon, where we both work?" He saw more of Barrett lately than he did of Sam.

Barrett frowned and opened his mouth, but another voice interrupted.

"Sir."

"Reynolds?" He gawked as another man stepped into view. Jack's previous and now Landry's 2IC of the SGC glanced over Barrett's shoulder and smiled sheepishly. Not good.

"Yes, it's me, sir, and no, this can't wait. It's about Pete Shanahan."

A curse warmed Jack's lips. He'd assumed anything pertaining to the Irish cop was long behind them, obviously not. "Fine. Just give me a few." He shut the door. As appreciative as Sam would be with Jack's red satin jocks, these guys might not be so receptive. He quickly donned jeans and a canary yellow, long-sleeved polo shirt and then slipped on sandals. Two minutes later he swung open the wooden door, and motioned the men to take a seat. They did, but their gazes tracked the newly furnished house with its defined feminine decorative touch. Barrett's gaze settled on a framed picture of Jack and Sam taken in a mini mall's portable photo stall where you sit on each other's lap. Her arms draped over his shoulders, Sam sat on his lap while the sappy look on his mug with Sam crossing her eyes spoke volumes.

Jack maintained a sober expression as he met Reynolds' shrewd wink. Reynolds had long ago supported Sam and Jack's wannabe love affair and knew they were married. Lately, Jack honestly wondered who didn't know. Well, Barrett for one.

Speak of the devil, Barrett looked green around the gills. Jack grit his teeth when the younger man's gaze drifted to the dining room table set for two and the single white rose on one plate, Sam's. Jack knew Barrett was aware of her biweekly Pentagon visits but the man had yet to brave a discussion with Jack as to how serious he and Sam were. Now he knew. Besides, after Sam had temporarily rejoined SG-1 last month, Jack gave TPTB the middle finger and so far, there'd been no repercussions. So far.

He'd told Sam, "The Joint Chiefs of Staff be hanged, we're not hiding anymore."

Samantha, on the other hand, hadn't told a living soul, not even Colonel Mitchell. While Daniel, Teal'c and Hank played along. Jack highly suspected she got a buzz keeping their marriage a secret. One problem, they wanted a baby, and that would be one thing she couldn't hide when the time came.

"So either of ya care for a beer?" he motioned toward the kitchen. "Mal?" he glanced at the NID agent.

"Sorry. Official business, Jack." Malcolm Barrett answered. Yeah, they'd long gotten past the formal protocol issue.

"Thanks. But I'm on duty, sir." Josh Reynolds' looked like he wished he weren't.

"You're in civvies, Josh. So chill." Jack waggled his brows and grinned.

"Trying to be less obvious, sir. I'm here per General Landry's request."

"Ah." He nodded but wasn't sure why. "Haven't talked to Hank all week. Some reason he didn't come himself?"

"Just said he wanted me to have more latitude dealing with such matters. I've been in contact with Agent Barrett since he contacted General Landry on Tuesday. First off, sir, I want to explain that I understand Colonel Carter hasn't been privy to Pete Shanahan's involvement in the Nirrti abduction incident, correct?"

"No, she hasn't." Jack blanched and sent a deadly glint at Barrett who cleared his throat and then looked away.

"Well, sir," Reynolds continued. "I'm concerned, now that the cat is out of the bag, so to speak."

"Excuse me?" Something was rotten in Denmark and it wasn't cheese. He dropped into his recliner and glanced at his watch. "Okay, let's cut the bull. What'sup?" he addressed Barrett.

Barrett nodded and opened his briefcase, while Reynolds' looked more uncomfortable. Jack noted how he repeatedly rubbed his palms across his thighs. A nervous habit that meant things were not peachy.

"Wait." Jack shot out of his chair and entered the kitchen. He grabbed three cold beers and popped the tops in the dining room corner. Returning to the living room, he handed one to each men, who stared dumfounded at their bottles. "You guys know how much I hate formality and the yes, sir, address. So let's just talk about whatever this is about as friends. On a first name basis."

"Sir?" Colonel Reynolds coughed. "This is official business."

"That an order, Colonel. I'm Jack, you're Josh, and this here's Malcolm, who hates his first name so we call him, Mal."

"Mal?" Josh looked confused at the agent. "I thought your first name was Max?"

"I, um go by that too. Anything but Malcolm." He blushed.

"Ah, guys." Jack verbally poked them and then waved his beer at Barrett's opened briefcase and stake of folders. Jack had long ago learned to read upside down. The folder titled Coroner's Report caught his attention.

The younger men exchanged looks and Mal proceeded. "Well, Jack." He grinned then sobered. "Four days ago the remains of one John Doe were discovered in an abandoned meat packing freezer in the Denver warehouse district."

"How's that?" he wondered what this had to do with Shanahan.

"The building was being prepped for demolition. They were shutting down the electricity and found a freezer room still operational. Upon further inspection, they discovered several slabs of beef and between them a fully dressed male body that had been stabbed through the chest with the meat hook it hung from, although that wasn't the cause of death. He was killed by a Zat'ni'katel, Jack."

"Ah and that's relevant, how?" he glanced from one man to the other.

"The body has been identified as one Detective Pete Shanahan of the Denver Police Department." Barrett proceeded to hand over the forensic photos taken on the scene and later in the morgue.

"Holy crap!" Jack stared at the white pasty face of Petty with freezer burn.

"Well, that's sort of what General Landry said." Reynolds took a swig of beer and did a backhand wipe of his mouth. "This guy's been dead almost as long as he'd been . . ." Josh glanced at the stone fireplace.

"Spit it out." Jack insisted.

"Dating Colonel Carter."

Jack scrubbed his hands over his face and into his hair. "Okay, I confuse easily." His hands directed traffic and he looked from one man to the other for more Intel.

"What Josh means," Mal leaped in, "Is that, we've cross-referenced the DNA samples Doctor Fraiser took from Shanahan after he'd been shot at Doctor Jackson's stakeout two years back. They're identical matches, except . . ."

"What?" Jack looked back at the man in the photo.

"Except there's a slight variance. Just like when the Asgard Loki cloned you, Jack," Reynolds explained.

"Well, spank me, Rosy! You're telling me that the man who abducted us was a clone like Fraiser, Klorel and Zipacna?"

"Yes. At least, that's how it appears. The FBI got the local judge to exhume the second body for a more detailed autopsy." Barrett jumped in. "The time of death for the body we found has been estimated to be approximately one week before Colonel Carter and Pete met at Mark Carter's house."

"So, she never knew the real Peter Shanahan?" Jack cocked his head in astonishment at Barrett.

"No." Barrett continued, "From what his ex-wife, Joy Shanahan told the police and then myself, they were in the midst of reconciliation, when unbeknownst to her, the real Pete got murdered. They'd started divorce proceedings, but never stopped seeing each other. Mrs. Shanahan swears her husband loved her and she loved him. It seems their marital problems were due to his gambling addiction that had led to huge debts. They had to sell their house to pay off debtors and filed chapter seven.

"Shanahan was trying to overcome his addiction. Mrs. Shanahan said he'd been going to therapy for over a year and hadn't gambled in six months. He'd never been possessive or abusive to her. Which is why she became hurt and confused when he showed up one day and told her there was another woman and he wanted a divorce." Barrett took a long breath. "Of course, she doesn't know any of this."

"Then the story he told Sam about his wife wanting out of the marriage because of his job was a lie." Jack stated.

"Apparently so." Josh Reynolds shrugged.

Nasty, Jack mused, feeling sorry for the widow. "I assume there's more?"

"Yeah." Reynolds stepped in. "Shanahan was a close friend of Mark Carter, but they'd lost track of each other since college."

"Yeah, Sam told me. So I assume Mark didn't know Mrs. Shanahan?" Jack added.

"Right. The clone made contact with Mark and said he'd just finished a messy divorce, swore his wife had walked out on him and cleaned him out financially. He needed a place to crash until he got his act together. And well, that worked out just fine, because his plan was to infiltrate the SGC."

"And who better than a member of SG-1." Jack surmised with a frown and felt relief that Sam wasn't present. No. She'd been through enough and to top it off, he still wasn't pleased about her return to the SGC. Matters were a bit shaky right now.

"Yes. Whoever created the clone had imprinted certain information into the clone's mind. Brainwashed it, I assume," Reynolds commented.

"Him." Jack corrected remembering Jonathon and Samantha mini-me were no less human than him or Sam.

"You're right, Jack. We assume the TRUST murdered the original Shanahan. After which, they programmed the clone to date the colonel and well, you know the rest." He reddened and looked away.

"Yeah." Jack blew out between his lips and shut his eyes with regret. When Sam learned the truth, she would be pissed. To think an innocent man died so another could steal his identity in order to get to his wife. He supposed he'd have to tell her now. Maybe this newest development would make it easier.

"Whoever was behind the sham, knew the Intel that went beyond the TRUST." Barrette inserted.

"Nirrti." Jack shook his head with the reality of how dark and deceptive that creature had been. "With the Goa'uld Klorel and Baal's assistance."

"Yeah, but which Baal?" Reynolds tossed out.

"Damned if I know." Jack set his unfinished beer on the coffee table.

His cell-phone rang and he pressed it to his ear. "What?"

"Jack, Hank here. I'll make it brief. Sam knows everything and she's—"

The front door opened. Crap! He looked up. Sam stepped inside with her briefcase. She'd not been smiling to begin with, and as she took in the powwow in their living room, the frown turned to a scowl aimed at Jack. Oy!

"Um, thanks for the late warning, Hank. Later." He hung up.

"Hi." He stood with a starched smile for his wife. The high color in her fair cheeks warned this wouldn't be pretty. She ignored him but smiled at Barrett and Reynolds who'd politely stood upon her entrance.

"Agent Barrett." She nodded.

"Colonel Carter," he said with a clotted voice then seemed to find his shoes fascinating. Yeah, Jack knew that awkward scenario.

Sam gave a clipped but respectful salute to the full Colonel Reynolds.

"Colonel Reynolds."

Josh returned the salute. "Colonel Carter, at ease."

She nodded. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us a moment." She acknowledged and then held Barrett's culpable expression. Jack felt for the man. It was clear Sam knew the NID agent had set her up with his, 'How's Pete and so you seeing anyone,' interrogation two weeks before. The cat was not only out of the bag but Sam's, 'Not exactly,' answer had just bitten Barrett in the assets and would be clawing Jack's eyes out in a few moments.

Thankfully, she remained polite then said to Jack, "A word, General O'Neill." She set her briefcase on the hallway's table and marched into the kitchen, her military heels clicking hard against the hardwood floor as if a foreboding of what was to come.

"This won't take a moment, kids," Jack said to them maintaining an air of dignified control as he reminded himself he was Major General Jack O'Neill head of HW Security and she was Lieutenant Colonel Carter, his subordinate—his really pissed off wife. After all, he'd been in similar situations like this before, right? As he entered the kitchen to face his irate mate, he realized nope, this was their first serious blowout since living together as husband and wife.

"Look, Sam, before you say anything I can explain—"

"Don't!" She held up a trembling hand and then glanced to where Barrett and Reynolds stood talking softly. "How dare you keep this from me, Jack! If I hadn't walked in on Landry telling Teal'c and Daniel, – Oh!" She was livid.

"Telling them what?" he asked, feigning stupidity.

"That Pete was a clone that's what, General Jonathon J. O'Neill." Her voice shook with anger.

"Oh, that." He tried to stay calm. One of them had to be. "Can we not discuss this now?" He gestured to the living room. "I was in the middle of—,"

"Keeping me in the dark?" she stepped within a few inches of him, her heart shaped face glowing with condemnation. Even in her righteous anger he couldn't help but love her.

"Not exactly." He'd no idea how corny that remark sounded.

"I'll not have it, Jack! Just because we're married doesn't give you a right to keep pertinent mission Intel from me, not to mention letting me make a fool out of myself in front of Agent Barrett."

"For crying out loud, Sam, we weren't on a mission. We were kidnapped and you almost died!"

"Screw your excuses. You lied to me."

"I didn't lie," he defended.

"No. Worse, you withheld the facts!" With that she stormed out of the kitchen down the hallway and into their bedroom slamming the door.

"Well, this is another fine mess, you've gotten yourself into," he muttered and rummaged a hand through his messed hair, which Sam loved—messed, just so she could finger comb it into place. Crap, the stupid stuff he thought about when they were at odds.

Drawing himself up, he returned to the living room to find Barrett and Reynolds acting as nonchalant as possible, considering they'd no doubt heard word for word.

"I don't think we're going to resolve anything else today." Jack had put on his General's façade.

"We understand, sir." Reynolds nodded soberly. "I'm sorry that she found out this way."

"Hey." Jack sniffed and jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "It's not the first time I've bucked heads with Carter and won't be the last." He walked them to the door then said to Barrett, "Thanks for the update. And, do me a favor?"

"Anything, Jack."

"Work your magic with the Denver DA. Then have Shanahan's real remains returned to Mrs. Shanahan. I want you to personally tell her that he'd gone undercover for the CIA or FBI, gotten into some nasty crap, and had divorced her in order to protect her. You make him a hero, Barrett, and then see that she gets a generous settlement that'll care for her needs the rest of her life and won't end even if she remarries."

"For life?" he gulped and turned green.

"Yes. There an echo in here?"

"No, sir."

"And if you hit resistance let me know. I'll take care of it."

"Okay." He smiled.

His mind on the storm in his bedroom, Jack bid both men goodbye.

Barrett held back. "I owe Colonel Carter an apology, sir. I should never have baited her like that about Pete or dating."

"Water under the dam, Mal. And it's my problem not yours. I promise next time you see her, she'll be fine." He hoped. Jack shut the front door, took a long breath, muttered a prayer and walked toward the war zone. Man, what he would give to have a zat . . .for—self-defense, of course.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Many, Many Hours Later: **

Jack had never gone hoarse in his life. But there was a first time for everything. He also realized something else. Samantha Carter had one honking set of lungs. Like the Duracell battery bunny she kept yelling and yelling . . .

What had happened to the disciplined officer who, when angry, would quietly retreat to her laboratory and exercise her rage by building a naquadah bomb? He almost wondered if this furious beautiful blonde was a clone. Yeah, that made sense. Nirrti pulled a fast one and made two dimwitted clones, but then where was his sweet, gentle Sam?

"Holy Hannah!" She stomped into the bathroom where Jack sought refuge with a toothbrush in his mouth. "I am no dimwitted clone!"

Jack calmly removed the toothpaste-coated brush from his foaming mouth and shook it at her. "Nay—ah. No head-hop-ping." He spit into the sink, rinsed and spit again, before wiping his mouth with a towel and glancing her way.

Not a Carter smile to be had.

"Maybe if you stopped withholding Intel that affects me, from me, I wouldn't risk entering that muddled mess you call a brain." She turned and stormed back into their bedroom.

Jack winced. That was a first. Sam occasionally teased him about his easy confusion and Jack was the first to downplay his smarts, but Sam had never insulted them—his smarts. Never. He felt hurt and yet knew he deserved a lot worse, considering. In all their quarrelling tonight, they'd not personally attacked the other, until now.

Ironically, they'd long gotten past the Pete Shanahan clone issue, of which there'd been no defined conclusion other than Sam was still ticked off and humiliated over being left in the dark while everyone else who knew the truth. To worsen matters, the know-it-all list was far longer than Jack suspected. It'd even reached Kerry Johnson's ears, with whom Sam got to share a solo elevator ride at the SGC today. On the upswing, Kerry was dating a popular senator twice her age. Yep older than dirt or Jack. He wondered if she had a father-lover complex? Oy, now that was just sick.

Back to Sam. He had apologized so many times he'd lost track. For all he knew she could have tossed a, "I forgive you," into their tirade and he hadn't heard. Then again, he'd remember anything that meant they'd progressed beyond name-calling. They hadn't.

Jack pressed his lips together and blew out his nose. Okay, he could handle this. Or not. So far they'd sort of played fair. No mention of past transgressions, especially against the other. He tried to reign in his anger, really. Okay, so he lost.

Slamming the medicine cabinet shut, he switched off the light and marched into their bedroom to find Sam climbing into their bed --naked. She had to be kidding! This was war!

Carter/O'Neill ground rule #1: Clothes always off in bed during peacetime. On during wartime.

Some nerve she had, to act as if they weren't fighting. Had he missed something here?

"Whatcha doing?" He gestured, still wearing his boxer and white v-neck t-shirt as he dragged his weary butt toward the bed.

"Going to sleep." She shrugged and reached for a tissue then blew her red nose as a lone tear trickled down her pale freckled cheek. The said action caused her naked breasts to quiver-several times. Jack swallowed. A crying, naked Carter could be his downfall. She played dirty.

"Nude?"

"Um, sure. If you've got a problem with my nudity, face the wall," she said in a snippy voice. "I sleep better this way."

"You can't break the marriage bed regs, Sam."

"Watch me." She huffed.

"I'd rather not." That should have nipped her butt good. He glanced over to meet her icy glare. Okay then, maybe not.

Struggling for control, he told John-John to chill, walked to Sam's dresser, rummaged around and hauled out her flannel P.J's, then flung them at her.

He made a direct strike against into her beautiful size C chest.

Startled, Sam gawked. "I'm hot." She tossed the pajamas onto the floor, and slipped under the covers, punching her pillow hard.

"Oh, you're hot all right, Carter, and I'm not that muddled to know when I'm being setup."

"Don't you dare address me as Carter when we're fighting, O'Neill."

"Ah hah! Gotcha!" He jumped in place like Daniel would. Geez, now he's thinking like Daniel. Sick.

"What does that mean?" She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior.

"We're fighting and you're breaking our agreement to not go to bed naked when mad."

"Fine then. We're debating, General O'Neill." She stuck out her tongue.

Jack scratched his head and waved his arms at her like a wild baboon. "Now see—that's just so dang confusing."

"How?"

"Like are we debating as husband and wife or fighting as General and Colonel? Coz if it's the latter, you're about to be written up for insubordination, Colonel Carter, and the list is long!" He stretched out his arms.

"Both. So write me up, General." Then to his surprise she charged out of bed and went to the closet and hauled out a large suitcase – butt naked.

"Now whatcha doing?"

She gave him a duh look.

"Okay, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to move on base." Sam stalked to her dresser and snatched out lingerie and threw them into the open suitcase – still naked.

"Which base?" He stomped over and blocked her path as she turned back to the dresser, his gaze traversing over her hot body.

"The SGC of course. SG-1 is slotted for a 1500 hour mission that should take two days to complete."

"There is no SG-1, Carter." He decided this was a military debate.

"Um, yes there is." She snagged her lower lip and avoided eye contact.

"Excuse me." Jack's mouth dropped open. "I would have known. Hank would have told me."

"We've been officially active since Baal's return. Maybe if you read your memos from Hank . . ." She turned her bare back to him.

"Are you lonesome tonight, do you miss me tonight . . ." Elvis sang in the background. Jack lifted the remote and hit the off button for the CD player.

"You have a decision to make, Sam."

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" She stared wide-eyed at him.

"Yeah, maybe. God Himself knows you're all talk and no follow-through when it comes to personal relationships. Soon as the ship starts to rock, you jump ship." He pointed to her luggage.

"That's cruel and unfair!"

"And not consulting me about rejoining SG-1 isn't?" He snorted and made a crude gesture.

"Because I knew we'd be right here arguing if I did. I knew you say no."

"As a genius, Carter, what is it about _no_ you don't understand?"

"Don't talk down to me, Jonathon O'Neill."

"And don't pull the, 'I got to save the world' crap on me." He stalked out of their bedroom, down the long hallway and toward the sunken living room. "The Shanahan bull crap aside, we agreed your stint at the SGC was temporary. Comprenez?"

"Jack?" she asked nicely walking up behind him—naked.

Relieved by her tone, he turned and smiled. He knew she wouldn't sleep without him—So far, no matter what they'd argued about, it had never carried over to their sleeping together or their sex life.

Oh, she'd followed him all right, but not without a weapon. Halting on the landing she launched his pillow hitting him square in the face. Before he could recover, she turned, stomped down the hallway and into the bedroom.

"Screw you!" he yelled.

"In your dreams!" She shouted.

"Dream solo, Babe."

"Wear your hand out!"

A more vulgar reply burned his lips, but Jack held his tongue. His throat hurt and to be honest he didn't have a fighting bone left in him—at the moment. He was angry and hurt.

This wasn't their first lover's quarrel since settling in together. However, it proved to be the crappiest. He should never have agreed to let her help Landry. Coz, it'd come back to haunt him. Jack slumped onto the hard sofa, jammed the pillow beneath his neck, and shut his bloodshot eyes. Sam wouldn't come after him anymore than he would knock on their bedroom door and plead insanity. This would be a long lonely night and he had a 0900 meeting at the Pentagon, then a very long afternoon. Thank the stars he had the Asgard shells to transport his tired body. And double thanks, that TPTB hadn't caught him using them, yet.

Dropping the pillow, he shoved to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen. He flipped on the light and glanced at the clock. Crap. 0213 hours. They'd been at it since 1800 hours, no wonder his throat hurt and he felt exhausted. At least it wasn't a full moon. Coz, fighting or not, they'd be doing the nasty. Great, now he felt horny! He motioned to walk toward their bedroom then remembered why they weren't sleeping together. Nope. He wouldn't give in. Not this time. Not on this matter. He yawned and stood staring into the refrigerator scratching his six-pack and wishing he'd worn more than his boxers and t-shirt on his hasty exit out of the bedroom. Eventually he removed two beers. He opened them and flung the caps on the fireplace hearth as he returned to the couch. He dug the remote out from the sofa cushions and stretched out rubbing his bare feet together, thinking how Sam's feet were always cold and he'd have to warm them for her.

Hitting the power on-off button, he channel surfed and downed a beer, glancing every few seconds at the silent dark hallway. He tried to mind merge with Sam but hit a wall of resistance. She was mad. So was he. Welcome to married life, Jack O'Neill.

_Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Samantha Carter-O'Neill. _

"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into, O'Neill." He yawned then smiled briefly when he found a rerun of the Simpsons.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam sniffed back spent tears as she shrugged into her flannel pajamas. She felt cold, especially her feet. Her cold feet. Jack always had warm soles. She flopped onto their bed and naturally rolled onto his side hugging his extra pillow, wishing she could undo the last few hours. She hated this part of marriage. Maybe, she shouldn't be here, married to the most wonderful, loving, and mule-headed jackass in the world?

"_Sure, he's a jackass, but . . .You love him. He loves you, _said her heart."

"Great now I'm having a telepathic conversation with myself."

'That's because you're brilliant.'

"He lied!" She wrestled with the bedding and yanked them over her shoulders, realizing the sofa afghan was in the washer. Jack didn't have a blanket.

'To spare you.'

"That's always his excuse. He treats me just like he does Daniel, like an overprotective mother hen. He's not my father. Even Dad would have told me about Pete being a clone."

'I don't think so. You've no idea all the stuff Dad kept from you, Sam. And wouldn't you have done the same were the circumstances reversed?'

"What about the fact I'm needed at the SGC?"

'He's got no problem with you working at the SGC. It's the going off through that big circle thingy that he doesn't like, Samantha.'

"Excuse me, but I was going off world without him for over a year. Now, because we're living together, I can't—Um, big circle thingy? Hey, wait just one minute! Man, oh man! Jack?"

'Um, you rang?'

"You tricked me! Get out of my head, now!"

'Don'cha think we should talk about this, woman-to-man? I'm just saying.'

"So help me you better be on the opposite end of the galaxy or I'll . . ."

He was gone.

"Jack?" Blanket in hand, she padded out into the living room. No Jack. She hurried to the hallway closet to discover his briefcase and the Asgard shell were gone. In the kitchen she found a post-it note tapped to the refrigerator.

'_Sam, _

_Seems we're at a gridlock. I couldn't sleep so went to work. I don't want to fight about this. We agreed, just one time. You had that time and then some. If you value our marriage, please let this go._

_Always, _

Jack' 

Emotions overwhelmed her. He'd actually walked out on her, on them. She supposed she deserved his angry reaction. Yes, she did. Now what was she willing to do about it?

"Hah!" She fumed, hurried to the bathroom and showered.

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Pentagon: Jack's office, 0820 Hours

They hadn't spoken since their telepathic conversation last night. He still felt rather smug that he'd made her think she was talking to herself. He'd also taken advantage of his Ancient gifts and if he wanted to save his marriage, he couldn't do so again, at least not for a long, long while.

Jack yawned and cracked his stiff neck. He'd not slept a wink and felt the physical repercussions. Even Ancients needed shuteye. He glanced at his open Day Timer calendar and the slot that had 'Sam' penciled in.

Oh, he knew why Colonel Samantha Carter had requested through his secretary, Bertha, a formal meeting at his Pentagon office on his busiest scheduled day of the week.

He told Bertha to squeeze in a fifteen-minute meeting and then spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out how to avoid the imminent argument that meeting would re-ignite.

To ease the mounting tension he wondered what telephone booth Sam had beamed into. No doubt she'd had the Prometheus transport her and her car into the underground parking ramp of the Pentagon City mall, then she'd driven here like any other military personnel. This was one time he wished she didn't have the advantage of Asgard technology at her fingertips.

Jack shoved to his feet and poured himself more coffee, then glanced at the stack of paperwork on his desk.

"Let's be honest, Jack, you envy the fact your wife is going off world?"

"Ya think?" he answered himself. Yeah, he didn't hate his present job, but he sure didn't love it. Not like being at the SGC, especially on Mondays.

Most Mondays at the Pentagon sucked. Today, he had to oversee a military powwow with Russia, Britain and China that would no doubt drain the rest of his gray cells dry by mid-day. The subject for debate, Baal, of course. At least Landry would attend this 'how to fix' meeting. Jack's plan A was Jack-simple. Capture all the mutated Baals and determine behind which door hid the real McCoy. Then interrogate the bastard, castrate, and fry him with a zat!

The desk phone rang, which meant his secretary had screened it first. Jack had a list of callers she let through without alerting him. He pondered changing that special list. Recognizing the ID Jack hesitated then answered.

"The answer's still no." He held the phone away from his sore ear as Hank ranted on before Jack interrupted.

". . . Look, Hank, I know how valuable Sam's brains are. Why she's a national treasure. . . ." More defense arguing. "And no, I'm not confusing personal feelings with what's best for the SGC or earth!" He slammed the phone down and cursed. Next thing he knew Daniel would—His phone rang. He glanced at the ID number and flinched, well, it wasn't Daniel.

Far more menacing, the United States Air Force Chief of Staff. At least it wasn't President Hayes—yet.

"General O'Neill." He swallowed hard.

"Jack, John Jumper here. I'm calling on behalf of President Hayes. It's regarding Colonel Carter and . . . "

"Oh, for crying out loud – General, sir! Um, sorry, sir." _Just shoot me,_ he thought, shaking his aching head.

"Jack, I'll make this an order if I have to. Believe me, I'd rather not have to incorporate such extreme measures. Furthermore, the Russians, Brits, and Chinese want Carter back at the SGC, pronto."

"With all due respect, sir, she'll be back under my direct chain of command, again."

"Ah, heck, Jack. Off the record, you've been married to the woman for over five years, at least, according to Chulak law. And the chain of command boloney didn't affect your military decision regarding Carter before, so why now?"

Jack drew a long deep breath. Jumper had no idea how wrong he was about that last statement. Carter had always affected Jack's judgment calls, especially when he'd done the right thing for earth. Had she ever died during one of those decisions, he'd never have forgiven himself.

"Hey, Jack?" Jumper's irritated tone roused him from his musings.

"Still off record, sir?" He set the phone on speaker to rummage through his desk drawers for his yoyo.

'Of course, son."

"I left the SGC command post so Sam and I could be together as in legally married. And that's the same reason she went to R&D."

"I believe you threatened me with retirement, Jack."

"Yes. And times like this, I wish I had followed through." Ah, missing yoyo recovered. He wound it up and 'walked the dog,' to ease his present stressed state of mind.

"That wouldn't have changed things, Jack. She wants this and we both know Sam won't stay happy forever flying a desk, even designing battleships at R&D or running the SGC Science Department. Of course, you understand, now that I know the scenario, she doesn't need your approval. Although, it'd still look good on paper for everyone concerned."

"Yep." Talk about getting kicked while you're down. "Just so I understand, Colonel Carter went over my head and called you or was it Landry?"

"Neither. Let's say a little bird told me."

"Doctor Jackson?" Jack snorted.

"No and I'm not releasing that information because in all honesty, you should have consulted me on this matter firsthand."

"Yes, sir. I should have." He leaned back in his chair and reconsidered retirement as he rocked the cradle.

"Jack, far as I know Carter's never gone over your head, even when you were her CO. So don't think she'd pull that now. She didn't. I called her and we had an enlightening exchange."

"Bet you did." He muttered under his breath.

"Chill, Jack. She's younger and smarter than both of us. But she's no greenhorn captain either. If you deny her this last opportunity to rejoin SG-1, this could affect your marriage and not for the better. Besides that, she's had every right but didn't ask to relieve Mitchell of the team command. She said she's content to work as his equal or 2IC."

"Is that so?" Jack straightened in his chair and set down the yoyo.

"Yeah, when I asked why, she said, 'I led SG-1 for over a year, sir. It was one of the most rewarding and terrifying experiences of my life. I realize I wouldn't have had that honorable position if General O'Neill hadn't believed I was capable. However, I messed up a lot, sir, and presently don't feel I should be SG-1's CO. Perhaps in time, but not now. Furthermore, I hope General O'Neill will be more easily swayed with my reassignment to SG-1 if I am not leading, sir.'"

"D'oh!"

"Oh, it gets better, Jack. I then asked why. She said and I quote, 'We, that is General O'Neill and I want more children. It'd be in the best interest of SG-1 when I become pregnant to replace the science officer during maternity leave than the team's leader. And I don't know if I will want to return after said future pregnancy, General.'"

Jack dropped his boots off the desk and they hit the floor with a bang.

"Jack?"

"Um, sir?"

"You still with me?"

"Yes, sir. I just . . . we didn't . . . she never mention that to me."

"Maybe if you hadn't been fighting. . ."

"She told you?" Jack's face warmed.

"Of course not. Call it experience, but I know you two probably had a knockdown argument. Not to mention the whole Shanahan fiasco.

Jack, I've been married over thirty years to the same wonderful woman. Ellen, as you've come to know, is a lot like Samantha. They're both strong independent women. Sometimes I wish differently, but God help me, Jack, I wouldn't want my wife any other way. And because we occasionally butt heads, our marriage is not dull." He chuckled. "So take some advice from an old married man, 'You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away and know when to run,'" he sing-songed to Jack – off key.

Jack grimaced and stuck a finger in his right ear. "Why, sir, are you a Kenny Roger's fan?"

"Yep, a wise man, if you ask me."

"Yes, he is." He sighed out contemplating his boss's wisdom.

"Now as the CO of HS, I expect you to put your emotional baggage aside and tell me who is best fit to be science officer of the newly re-instated SG-1?"

"Crap! That's so fricking unfair, sir."

"Jack, you can deal with me or President Hayes, which will it be?"

"Fine, you sir. Carter, of course."

"Good, then I know you'll stop being a pain in the rear to everyone, including Landry and sign those reassignment papers, ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

"And, two more things, Jack?"

"What?" he tried not to whine.

"One, you and I never had this conversation."

"Right. Thank you, sir." Jack reached to disconnect the phone, but his hand orbited the button as he heard Jumper.

"And two, you have some major kissing up to one Mrs. O'Neill."

"Yes, sir." Just peachy!


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

General Jumper's phone call had pretty much made up Jack's mind. Like he had a fricking choice? However, he wasn't about to let Sam off that easily. Even though he'd most definitely withheld information regarding the cloned Shanahan from her, she'd withheld from Jack that she'd accepted Landry's request to for her to sign on with SG-1.

Now, she'd gone to some extra work to visit him here officially, which included that Landry's scrubbed SG-1's mission today for her to do so. Yeah, he'd gotten his ear burned by Hank, again. Sometimes, like now, working with friends was a pain in the family jewels.

Jack's secretary buzzed him.

"What, Bertha?"

"Colonel Carter is here for her 010:30 meeting, General." Bertha spoke professionally over the intercom, but Jack knew the little Hitler was grinning on the other end.

"Fine. Send her in." Tenting his fingers beneath his chin Jack drew a breath of resolve, and settled back in his chair. Bertha opened the door and escorted Sam in as if this were her first time. He couldn't help notice how Bertha's gray eyes crinkled and then she had the nerve to wink at him. Although, he didn't believe in reincarnation, Jack wondered if God had pulled a fast one on him and sent Janet Fraiser back as a middle-aged secretary that looked like a bulldog.

Sam entered in her Class A's with an 8x10 envelope in hand. Jack shoved to his feet. Sam in dress blues meant trouble. Worse, he was wearing his comfy Green BDU's, figuring they'd go for coffee afterward. She smiled and saluted, standing at attention. He gave a half-fast return and waved her down.

"At ease, Colonel. Now what's going on?" He surprised himself that he'd not called her Sam. Must be her uniform.

"Request permission to speak freely, sir?"

Jack gaped then cleared his throat. "You know you can—"

"I've requested a transfer from Area 51, General." She handed over the yellow sealed envelope. "To the SGC."

Crap! His gut ache worsened. He glanced at the paperwork on his desk, he'd been avoiding for two days. Not to mention the five phone calls from Landry in the last hour. He knew where this was going. He didn't like it.

"And I suppose you got a release from Area 51?"

"No, sir. Apparently there's some red tape that you need to clear. General Landry faxed over my transfer papers and called you—"

"Sam, we agreed." Jack verbally let go and tramped around the desk to lord over her.

"Sir." She kept her military persona while her clenched fists tapping her thighs, gave away her growing frustration.

"Quit the 'sir' crap!" He scrubbed a hand over his face and into his hair, screwing his eyes shut.

"Jack?" she said firmly. "Take a deep breath and look at me."

_No, _he whined in his head at her.

"We agreed no head-hopping, Jack."

Frick! He opened one eye slowly. She smiled warmly at him. Dang! He opened the other.

"Now breathe," she stated in her calm voice that always well, calmed him.

"Sam?"

"I couldn't sleep last night either."

"Sweet." He yawned and patted his open mouth with the back of his hand.

"I think you forgot just what we agreed upon, honey." She reached up with both hands and her fingers instinctively located his knotted shoulders. She gently massaged him. _Hon_ey? Oh, yeah, he was being setup, big time.

"Did not. We agreed neither of us would return to field duty on or off world . . ."

"Unless Earth became at risk again."

"Yes." He slouched knowing he'd lost the battle. "But Baal's dead." He picked up his sunglasses and began to fidget with them. Open. Close. Open. Close.

"You really believe that?" She yanked his distraction from his hands. "Or that the Ori aren't gaining a foothold in the galaxy?"

"No, but, why you?" He replaced the glasses with his yoyo then set it down and concentrated on his wife's determined expression. "I can understand Daniel and Teal'c, but," He captured her right hand and brought it to his mouth and brushed her fingertips across his parted lips. "We were going to start a family, Sam."

"And we will." She assured him. "This is just for a while, Jack. Just to help Mitchell get SG-1 situated. I already told him, that my return is short term."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud! That's what we said nine years ago and look where it's gotten us."

Sam yanked her hand from his and blinked tears, that didn't fall. "Together, Jack. We've always been together, even when we didn't understand the reasons."

"Don't sugar coat it, Sam. We spent plenty of time apart, not being a couple, and at this point, we'll never start a family. Need I remind you there's little girl called, _Grace_, who's on hold in Heaven because we can't get our act together."

"I could never forget that, Jack. I think about Grace everyday."

"Well obviously, not enough to walk away from this job." He proceeded to stalk the office, realizing there wasn't enough stalking room. He jammed his hands into his pockets and proceeded to pace.

"That was cruel." She countered.

"Fine. It's cruel. It's also the truth." He turned to face her.

"Don't yell at me, Jack."

"I'm so not yelling, simply stating facts. Do you or do you not want another child with me, Sam?" He turned and rocking on his heels stared at her.

"Of course, I do." She unbuttoned her dress jacket and dropped into his chair then looked up at him. "This isn't about us having babies, Jack. That's a given. We both know it."

"Then what is it about? You tell me, Carter, coz I'm plum out of reasons for your decision to return to off-world duty."

"Please, Jack, I don't want us to fight. You said yourself it's what we do. And I really want to do this. I miss—" she caught herself but too late.

"Ah hah! Now they were getting somewhere." He turned sharply and stared in feigned shock. "You miss the alien butt kicking action, the adrenaline rush of stepping through the gate and not knowing what'll greet you on the other side?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Sure! But things change and, for once in my life, I'm willing to put us above everything else, including the daily high of kicking Goa'uld ass. Geez, Sam, if anyone's got a score to settle with Baal, it's me. But this isn't just about that life-sucking scum bag or the _Ore Eyes_ Dahs is it?"

"No." She shut her blue gaze and folded her hands in her lap. "I need this, Jack, one more time. And this time without you watching my six or commanding the SGC."

"Now you sound like Daniel." He sniffed realizing that's exactly what this was about. "You've had your own command, Sam."

"Yes, but it was under you, Jack. You watched me leave and watched me return. I can't think of one instance when you weren't waiting at the gate."

"I always tried to be there when my teams returned," he defended.

She gave him that 'Holy Hannah' look.

"Okay, so I always made it a point to be there when SG-1 left and returned."

"Exactly. Even if you weren't leading me off world, I knew you were always there for me."

"And I still am," he said softer, gazing down at her with a pained smile. "Always."

Sam closed her eyes and nodded. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "I know and I appreciate that as your wife and subordinate. But this time it'd be very different. I want—need to do this without your shadow, Jack."

Despite how bitter the pill, Jack knew that his 'caring more than he was supposed to' back then, had held Colonel Carter back. He'd never really let her fly. He swallowed that pill and tested her.

"I see. So you're willing to be 2IC to Mitchell under Landry?"

"Actually, Cameron and I agreed to share command. You just need to approve it, sir." She pointed to the envelope, he assumed to be a duplicate of what he already had in his drawer—signed.

"Ah." He saw all too clearly. "Look, can't we talk about this later, at home?"

"No." Her voice remained firm. "This is about work, Jack." She shoved to her feet and faced him with her stubborn Carter chin. Her gray-blue gaze Carter determined, just like Jacob. She wanted this. He feared she wanted SG-1 more than she wanted him. What the hell was happening to them?

"Work that affects us, Sam." He tried not to sound like General O'Neill, but like a husband.

"As usual, you're right." She took a step forward. "And I could bat my eyes and shed more tears. I know you hate when I do either."

"Yes, I do." Because he always caved-in.

"But I won't."

"Why?"

"Because, despite your reservations, you know I'm the best qualified person for the job. You know I'm needed there."

"And you know I'll get a bleeding ulcer worrying about you."

"No you won't. Ancients don't get ulcers." She smiled.

"Funny." He sniffed and reached out fingering a misplaced strand of hair from her face and slipping it behind her left ear, then caressing her cheek. "Let me think about it."

"The ulcer?" she teased, leaning into his touch.

"Samantha." He looked into her pleading gray blues and caressed her face. "I don't want to lose you, again. Especially out there." He looked at his window with a view. There were rumors he was about to fly his desk ten levels below ground. Double crap!

"You aren't going to lose me, darling. I have it upon supreme authority."

"Oh, really." He sniffed and scratched his lower back.

"Yes, Daniel assured me that we are going to grow old together and have a dozen grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Something about our Ancient genes--"

"Daniel's full of hot air."

"Jack?" She cupped his stubborn jaw and turned his face to hers. "Give me one year."

"And then?"

"And then we'll revisit this discussion. I mean, by then we should have been given the go-ahead to go public, get a marriage license and legally wed."

"We're already wed, got a Chulak marriage license as evidence. And far as I'm concerned, we don't need do anything but scream the news to the world." He made a face.

She smiled. "And I agree. But for our kids' sake, I'd like that piece of paper as evidence."

"Sure, but evidence of marriage is not the issue here, Carter. Remember you're the one with the ticking clock syndrome."

"I know, but the doctors gave me a clean bill of reproduction health months ago. And," she blushed and looked at her hands.

"What?"

"Last week, I had Doctor Lamb run a batch of tests."

"Carter?" Jack growled. "You should have told me."

"I planned too, but then Baal showed and--."

"Spill." He softly ordered.

"Okay." She did her Turtledove chin tuck. "Apparently, I've the internal body of a twenty-two year old woman, whicht includes reproduction organs. Lamb thinks it's a combination of Jolinar's blending and," Sam looked him in the eyes. "That I've had some significant um . . .DNA intercession from an Ancient donor that caused rejuvenation of my body. Almost like spending time in a sarcophagus. She wants to run further tests and, to answer your probe, Landry doesn't know. I assume you are the donor."

"Oy! I didn't think that . . ."

"Making love to me would further alter my DNA?"

"Yeah that." He blew out his mouth then grimaced.

"Me either."

"Are you sure this hasn't something to do with Nirrti's tinkering when you were unconsciousness?" He wiggled his hands at her like a magician then took a slow survey of her from head to toe.

"Anything's possible, but I don't think so. Jack, I'm okay with this, if you are. It means my clock is not ticking down as fast as it should for a woman my age."

"Oh, I'm fine, I think." His hands directed traffic. "I mean I'm not aging like everyone and now apparently you aren't either. Hopefully, we don't do that, 'Highlander' thingy, where he doesn't age but his wife does and she dies in his arms an old woman and he never loves that way again."

"No, we aren't going to do that, Jack."

"Well, that's a relief!" he chuckled. "So back to you and SG-1. You're saying that no matter what's happening out there, you'll just walk away from SG-1 and we will make babies?"

"Yes, General O'Neill, that's what I'm saying."

He chewed his lower lip and considered her suggestion. "One year? Twelve months? Three-hundred-sixty-five days? Um. not aleap year, is it?"

"Yes and no." she giggled as he counted on his fingers.

"No more? No less? Wait, I like the less part." He grinned back.

"No more, no less." She added with a wink. "Unless, of course, mother nature intervenes."

"Anything is possible, Dorothy." He drew her into an embrace then reached over and opened the envelope. "First, let me sign this before I come up with an excuse you can't talk your way out of, Colonel."

"Hey." She swallowed hard. "Let me explain before you read that." She reached to yank the papers out of his hand.

Jack pulled away and held tight to the document lifting it over his head, out of her reach. He scrunched his face with his typical O'Neill glint of suspicion. "You mean this isn't a transfer request?" He scanned the cover letter then paled.

"Carter," his voice bottomed out, "This is a formal resignation from the Air Force, signed by Landry. Crap, it's yours!" He flung it on the desk, turned and gaped at her.

"Um, well, yes. I decided last night after you walked out on me."

"I didn't walk out on you. I came here to think."

"Whatever. I'd been willing to make a truce but found you'd left. When you were in my head, you had already beamed over here. That's when I realized that nothing out there," she waved a hand toward the window, "was worth losing you over, again, even rejoining SG-1."

He started to speak, but she pressed her fingertips against his open mouth. "Let me finish." She then blew out between her polished lips.

Stunned by the sacrifice she'd been willing to make, Jack sat on the edge of his desk and watched his wife pace. For a brief second, he admired her stocking covered legs and his thoughts wandered due south but it didn't last. Geez, men really do think more about sex than saving the world.

"For the greater part of our relationship I've been very selfish and usually gotten my way. While you, on the other hand, have made countless sacrifices and continue to do so. I know that taking this position in Washington has been hard for you, far harder than when you resigned your commission as SG-1's CO and became the SGC CO. Your heart has always been in field-command and walking through the gate. More than anyone, I know you made those choices to accommodate my ambitions."

"Sam, I--" He adamantly shook his head.

"Shush!" she held up a hand. "I also knew that despite all the bickering we did last night, that in the end, you'd step aside and let me have my way. I love you more than ever for that. But we agreed when I went back last month that my assignment at the SGC would be temporary. I broke our pack and your trust, Jack. I won't do that again. Which is why I want to join the civilian population and become a regular working wife, and eventually, a mother. I talked with General Jumper this morning. He assured me that I could head R&D as a civilian and,--"

"He what? Why, that snarky, dirt-eating, underhanded, lying—" Jack slammed his fist against the desktop.

Sam leaped in her shoes. "Jack?"

He reached over and tore her resignation form in half, then walked to the shredder with in his tight grasp.

"No! Don't! What are you doing?"

"Settling this issue once and for all, Colonel Carter."

The shredder began to chomp down her papers and she tried to yank them free, but failed as the shredder's motor spit and sputtered.

"Now I'm confused." She exhaled a weary sigh, turned and gestured at him. "I thought this was what you wanted? Us making babies and—"

"Oh, it's exactly what I want. But when we both want it, Sam, and not before." He walked over and cradled her face in his hands. "This obviously isn't that time. I haven't been any less selfish than you." He let go with one hand and pressed his intercom, "Bertha, would you come and get those transfer papers for Colonel Carter."

"Yes, sir."

"Jack, no! I've made up my mind."

"So have I. Unless something's changed, I still outrank you. I'm your superior." He winked and opened his drawer, removed a folder and opened it.

Sam glanced down and gawked when she saw he had signed them hours ago.

"Why you two-timing blowhard . . ."

"Na ah," he wagged a finger of reprimand but winked.

Bertha knocked and Sam put distance between her and Jack.

"Enter," he acknowledged, but hadn't stopped smiling at his wife's flabbergasted expression as she turned to look out the window.

Bertha took the signed forms and gestured to leave. "I'm about to go on break, General, would either of you like me to get more coffee, donuts, or order you lunch?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Bertha. In fact, why don't you lock up shop for the remainder of the morning and then take an extra hour for lunch?"

Bertha's gray eyes rounded with suspicion but she didn't argue. "Why thank you, General O'Neill, but don't forget your three-thirty p.m. congressional meeting."

"How could I forget with your constant nagging, Bertha." He chuckled.

"That's my job, sir." She laughed softly. "And, Colonel Carter, it's nice to see you again."

Sam swiveled her blonde head and smiled warmly at the older woman. "Good to see you too, Bertha. Don't forget we have a lunch date next Thursday."

"Oh, I won't forget." She beamed and winked at Jack as she sauntered out.

Jack gaped. "You and Bertha – lunch?"

Sam turned from the window and grinned. "Yes. We've been having lunch once month since you took this position."

"Ah, hello! Why am I always the last to know these things?"

"Um, didn't know she had to get her lunch dates cleared by you."

"Well, okay, no, she doesn't. I'm just saying . . ."

"Jack, it's not like she's spying on you and then reporting to me. Remember she was Dad's secretary before she retired from the Air Force and went civilian. We've been friends for years."

"Well, there you go. I didn't know." He made a face and turned his hands palms up.

"Liar." She teased.

"Guilty." He laughed as they gravitated back to each other.

"So now what?" She cleared her throat.

"I spoke with Landry. As of zero hundred hours tonight, you and Mitchell share command of SG-1."

"Wait, even if I do stay, that's not what I intended."

"I know. Professionally, I think Mitchell is a loose cannon. He's may be one hell of a pilot, but he has zilch field experience and no black ops commands. He's too gung-ho to be calling the shots out there. Not only do I have you to worry about, but there's Daniel and Teal'c. They both expressed their preference for you to lead SG-1. If it weren't for the fact, I stupidly promised then encouraged Mitchell to reactivate SG-1—heck, I never meant the original team."

"I know. And I don't want Cameron thinking I'm walking over him, especially because of you."

"Um, he doesn't know about 'us', right?"

"No. He's heard rumors, but whenever he's approached the topic with me, I've shut him down. He knows we 'have' feeling for each other, nothing more."

"Nice. So there's really no conflict of interest. You two can share command until it becomes an issue. Then Landry will have to make a judgment call, that doesn't include my two cents worth. It'll be good for Hank to see more of your excellent decision making skills and . . ."

"I'm not staying that long, remember."

"So you've said. Ya know, Carter, whenever we make definite plans for something personal it never goes down that way."

"Isn't that the truth?" She snorted and toyed with the stars on his shoulder.

So I'm thinking." He scratched his jaw and tipped his hand upward.

"Is that wise, sir?"

"Careful," he warned with smirk.

"Always." She kissed his leathered cheek and he settled on the desk, urging her between his eagle-spread legs. Sam accepted the invitation and draped her arms around his neck and smiled upward. "Well?"

Jack squeezed his thighs together to make sure she stayed put. "How 'bout we learn from experience? Take things one day at a time? Kinda like that song, Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be, the future's not ours to see, que sera sera?"

"You mean, wing it?" She feigned a blanched look.

"Hey it's worked so far." He grinned at her dubious expression and held her closer.

"So no one-year from today absolute?"

"Nope." He waggled his brows. "We trust each other and trust the Keeper of the Stars that Daniel's prophecy about us growing old together with kids and grandchildren comes true."

"You believe that's possible?" She tested him.

"Anything's possible, Samantha O'Neill."

"Yes, it is." Sam nibbled his lower lip while her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. Jack leaned into her, his hand slipping under her jacket and tugging her blouse free. The moment his hands touched bare skin, Sam's breath hitched and her nibble became a passionate kiss.

Jack was so getting into their hot kiss until wet moisture warmed his cheek. Sam made a muffled gasp and pulled back, swiping at her tears.

"Hey, you alright?"

"I--m sorry." She sniffed and shook her head with that self-loathing look he'd seen before.

"What?" He cradled her face and turned her face back to his.

"I keep thinking about Joy Shanahan and the real Pete."

"Oh, that." He nodded, easing his hands out from under her blouse. "Yeah, nasty mess. We can't undo the horrible things that happened to them, but I made certain she'd be financially taken care of." He grimaced. "It's all we can do, babe."

"I know. But I should have realized last year. . ." She snagged her lower lip and shut her eyes as if in regret.

"What?"

"The day Pete proposed to me," Sam set her hands on Jack's thigh-master hold and he reluctantly let her go, then she walked to the window and turned to face him. "There was a woman at the park, watching us." After I said I needed to think about his proposal, I excused myself and went to the park's restroom. When I came back Pete was arguing with the woman, quite loudly. He was really angry.

"She was petite and dark haired, very pretty and crying. I remember she looked at me and shook her head as if in regret, for whom I don't know.

When she walked away from Pete he called out to her. Jack, he called her, Joy."

"Dang!" Jack dragged a hand through his hair.

"Yes. When I asked Pete who she was, he said, 'It was old family business from Denver, but had nothing to do with us.' Oh, Jack, I should have gone after her. I never once called her or tried to look her up."

"Why would you? You believed Pete. He said his marriage was over."

"We both know marriages are never truly over, Jack. Look, how long it took you to get over Sara. I know you still think about her, about the good days of your marriage, even the bad after Charlie died."

"Well, yeah, but rarely anymore. We've both moved on, you know that."

Sam sniffed and swiped a flat hand across her wet cheek. Jack pushed off the desk and quickly took her back into her arms.

"Jack, Joy needs to know more than Barrett's going to tell. She needs to know the real Pete loved her and didn't cheat on her."

"Well, Barrett was going to emphasis that as well. What are you proposing?"

"That you and I make an unofficial visit to her. Reinforce that he was undercover like the FBI's and CIA reports will state and that day, she saw me with the clone Pete in the park we were posing undercover. And that her showing up almost blew his cover, so he had to publicly make a scene."

"Okay."

"Just like that?" Sam lifted her head and stared wide-eyed at him.

"Yep. Got a problem with that, Carter?"

"No, sir. None whatsoever." Still, she didn't look completely convinced.

"What?" He scrunched his face and looked down at her.

"Jack, when we were on Nirrti's ship, she said something that well . . . I can't stop thinking about."

"And?" He coaxed with a hand motion.

She glanced at a spot over his shoulder. "Because Nirrti was in Janet's clone, she had access to Janet's memories."

"Sure." He nodded.

"She said that when I was with Pete, you and Janet had an affair."

"Did she now?" He snorted but resisted rolling his eyes.

"Yes." Sam looked at him. "If that happened, I understand. I don't blame you or Janet. I just want to know the truth."

"You already know." He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"I do?"

"Sam," he cradled her trembling chin in his hand and lowered his face to hers. "Janet was a close friend to both of us. I admit I talked to her about us, mainly because she had a mean bedside manner when she wanted to meddle. Remember when we entered that Ancient cave of dreams and got what we wished for?"

"Who could forget? It was horrible!" Sam shuddered.

"Well, along with the fact I was not kind to Janet, she saw more than I cared for anyone to see of me, even you. More importantly, she saw how much I love you. After we'd returned to ourselves, she took me aside and . . ." He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "Sam, despite Hammond's support for our continued working relationship in SG-1, Janet could have gone over his head and ended it right there. She didn't. She told me that she envied what we had and her resentment had clouded her judgment. She also threatened that if I ever hurt you, she'd find the biggest honking needle and jam it up my ass. I believed her." He made a full body shudder.

"Geez Louise!" Sam shook her flaxen hair.

"Yeah, she was a beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman -- everything I'd ever want. Except . . ."

"What?" Sam's fingers coiled around his right wrist and met his sincere gaze.

"She wasn't you."

"Oh." Her breath rushed from her lungs and she lowered her eyes.

"Sam," he eased her face back toward his. "I couldn't handle a relationship behind your back with Kerry, let alone attempt one with your best friend. I can't speak for Janet but I never loved her as anything more than a faithful friend, coworker, and my CMO."

She nodded and offered a frail smile. "I'm sorry, I should have known better. That was Nirrti, not Janet."

"Yeah," he sniffed. "Big, big difference." He stretched out his hands then brought them back to her shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Nirrti played head games with all of us, and more than once. I sure hope she's getting her just rewards."

"We don't know she's gone."

"No, but I incinerated her myself and . . ."

Sam blanched.

Whoops. He shut his eyes and breathed out, then slowly opened one eye.

"Jack. I know." She smiled slightly.

"Oh." This was his turn to go red and look at a spot over her shoulder.

"It didn't take much reading between the lines of Teal'c and Rodney's reports to figure out what happened. So anymore Ancient secrets up your sleeve?"

"No, but then I didn't know about that ability until I sensed and envisioned it happening. I swear!" He raised a hand as if taking an oath. Don't even know if I can do it again."

"Well, how many wives can say they literally married a hot date?" Sam's eyes sparked with mischief.

"Funny. Then you're not mad?"

"No. Just don't use it to start the fireplace, gas grill, etc."

"Cross my heart. Besides I don't think it works that way." He chuckled, looping his arms around her waist to draw her close.

"Good. Coz, it's bad enough Cassandra can move objects and read minds. I can't imagine what'd happen if she learned she could ignite combustible matter. Oh, now, where were we?" She reached out for him, but he let go and gingerly sidestepped her.

"We were making out on my desk. But I've got a better idea."

"Really?" She scowled at his evasive maneuver.

"Yeah sure yabetcha." He locked his desk drawers and made a neater pile of the foot high folders on his desk, walked over and made sure his door was locked from the inside.

"Jack, we've initiated your desk and George's chair about a dozen times and to be honest my back and butt prefer softer padding."

"Whine, whine," he teased.

"I'm not whining." She started to tuck her blouse back into her skirt.

"Don't." He flagged her action, and then urged her to the middle of the room. "Now reach into my left pant's pocket."

"Jack?" she asked suspiciously but did as told. "You know I've given up chocolate. What else could you have in your pocket?" She fished around the cloth aperture then gasped.

"Hold that . . . thought," he chuckled and glancing over her shoulder he pressed the Asgard shell.

"Jack, that's so not your. . ."

White light flashed. Seconds later they were in his townhouse bedroom.

" . . . Sidearm!" She finished, then blinked in surprise while he waggled his brows at her.

"Nope, sure isn't." He turned and they toppled onto their bed.

"Holy Hannah, sir!" Sam laughed.

"Carter, stop giggling and kiss me!"

She did.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The Capital's Oval Office:

"General Jumper?" the urgent voice from Pentagon Security addressed him over his cell phone in the middle of his lunch.

"Yes, Captain."

"It's happened again, sir! An energy spike from General O'Neill's office."

"Were you able to track it?"

"Yes, sir. It piggybacked off the orbiting Prometheus then resurged at the General's townhouse in Reston. Apparently two life forms registered inside the spike."

"Thank you, Captain. That'll be all."

"But, sir, this is an obvious security breach. Don't you want action taken?"

"No, Captain. Keep me apprised the next time it occurs, I suspect, oh, about two to three hours from now." He shook his head with a slight smile.

"Yes, sir."

John disconnected and eased his phone back into his dress blues suit coat before facing his lunch date.

"Trouble, John?" President Hayes asked as he brought the last fork full of cheesecake to his mouth.

"Routine, sir. Apparently, O'Neill's taken advantage of Asgard technology – for personal use – again."

"Oh, is that all?" Hayes wiped his mouth with a napkin and shrugged, smiling secretly, which troubled Jumper—a lot.

"You still don't want me to confront him, Mister President?"

"Nope. It's a small price for us to pay considering all his sacrifices for his country and planet earth. No doubt his lifelong duty to protect this world has only begun, that goes for Colonel Carter, too."

"Yes, sir, but if the HWS Council gets wind that Asgard Transport Shells are being used for personal use, it's going to bite us in the ass."

"John, John," Hayes shook his head and leaned back in his chair patting his full stomach. "I suggest you take on my mindset concerning General O'Neill and his wife, Samantha Carter."

"Which is?"

"With the Ori knocking on our front door, we need those two brilliant minds in our court. And if the use of the shells keep this special couple enjoying some afternoon delight, who are we to argue with the Keeper of the Stars?"

"That's it?" John gaped. "I mean, that's all well and good, sir, but that'll hardly fly with the HWS Council. Why China will have us for desert!"

"No, that's not all it. Last month, I got a surprise visit from Commander Thor. We had an interesting and pleasurable chat." Hayes wiggled his stocking feet in the plush carpet.

"You what, sir? I didn't get that memo . . ."

"Nope. Nor did anyone else. I see no purpose in advertising the private lives of Jack and Sam O'Neill. God knows, they've been under the NID microscope far too long. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Good." Hayes pushed away from the table for two that he and Jumper shared and then walked over to his desk, opened a drawer and brought out two Asgard shells. "This pink one," he held up the shell, like a little kid showing a new marble, "Is my personal communiqué with Thor. And this other one's," he held a smaller white shell, "a transport shell for security use only. Aren't they cool?"

"Um, sure." Jumper rubbed his furrowed forehead. He was getting a headache like when he'd talked with O'Neill this morning. Sometimes, Jumper worried that the president of the United States was a kissing cousin of one unpredictable General Jack O'Neill. John still recalled the first time he'd met O'Neill. Yep, it matched John's predecessor, General Michael E. Ryan's, remark to General Hammond, "Got your hands full with that one, eh, George?"

Now John had _that _handful and a president who thought the sun rose and shined on one Jack O'Neill. The scary fact was, so did John.

"Um, Earth to General Jumper."

"Oh, sorry, sir." He stood and cleared his throat as heat swept over his face.

"As I was saying, Thor stopped by and gave me the shells he then informed me he'd give both General O'Neill and Colonel Carter identical stones over a year ago. Of course, the Oval Office security taped that alien visitation including our conversation." Hayes fussed with some buttons on his desk and then smiled when the recorder started.

"I am Commander Thor, speaking on behalf of the Asgard High Council. The Tau'ri known, as Jonathon J. O'Neill and Samantha Carter-O'Neill are most valuable to the Asgard. They assist us in the ongoing battle against the evil that plagues our peaceful galaxies. I, Thor, entrusted identical shells to the O'Neill's. They are allowed to use those shells for whatever motive they deem necessary. That comprises of personal travel, such as Ancient bonding and practicing procreation to ensure future generations of O'Neill's. If you or your HWS Council attempts to relieve the O'Neill's of said transport and communication shells, we will have no recourse but to cease communication, and withdrawal our fortification of the planet Earth. Or as Jack would say, your ass is grass." Hayes touched the off button.

John shot to his feet. "He sounded serious, sir."

"Yes, I'd say that about sums it up." Hayes bent over and retrieved his loafers. "Now, I've got to go kiss up to the White House press."

"Mister President, just so I get this straight--We do nothing, regarding General O'Neill's inappropriate use of Asgard technology?"

"Yeah sure youbetcha!"

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Eight months later: Jack's Cabin 

"Um, Jack?" Sam lifted her head off his shoulder and tiptoed her fingertips across the slick sheen of sweat on his tanned skin, watching his chest rise and fall as his racing heart and heaving lungs strove for normalcy.

Nothing.

At least he was breathing. Still, she reached up and tweaked his left dimple.

"Ow!" He made a lame effort to slap her hand. One weighty eyelid opened and he squinted at her with a childish glint. "Whatcha do that for?"

"Wanted to make sure you were alive." She grinned.

"Ah," he opened the other eye and smiled contently. "Other than the fact you just sucked the life out me, I'm fine for a corpse. Sure you're not a Wraith?"

"Liar. You're quite alive. And no, not a drop of Wraith blood in my veins."

"Sweet." He folded his arm around her then drew her back against him and she flung a leg over his waist and snuggled close as possible. Sam felt his breath on her neck and inhaled deeply to capture the air he breathed. The moment his used breath entered her lungs, she tingled delightfully inside. Was that an Ancient element or just human?

'_For cryin' out loud, stop analyzing, Carter, and enjoy the moment like when we go fishing.'_

'Yes, sir.' She inhaled deeper.

'_Cool.'_

His mind tap made her smile especially the reference to fishing. Sam sighed and sifted her fingers through his chest hairs that had multiplied over the years. His strong heart thumped against her pliant cheek. Here in the warm afterglow of lovemaking Sam had never felt more alive or more loved as his fingers stroked her ribs. And for the first time in months they were at the cabin without anyone to crash their lovemaking. Even Cassie had chosen her summer job over a week with the 'honeymooners' as she called them. As Jack would say, it doesn't get much better than this.

From above her, she felt his lazy gaze, knowing that like her, Jack was spent and content.

"Um, you do okay? Did I satisfy the beastress in you?"

"Very. And you?" Her tongue darted out to lick the salty moisture trickling across his chest bone.

"Oh, yeah, excellent." He squirmed at her lapping tongue.

"Hum, we are good together." She gave his chest another lick and lingering kiss.

"Yes. In fact we're excellent." His fingers shifted upward to caress her bare shoulder.

One more lick.

Jack shuddered.

Sam smiled wickedly.

"Err . . . um, Carter, unless you're looking for a third round, I wouldn't start something you can't finish."

"But, sir, you told me that after I returned from the SGC I owed you three rounds in the sack. Um, I believe that was only two."

"That was months ago, woman." He groaned. "And we've matched those three rounds dozens of times. I need to recuperate so I can whip your cute butt during our fishing tournament come pre-dawn. Loser must gut, clean and fry the fish—"

"Deal. However, you're an Ancient with this incredible insatiable sex drive for your soul mate and we really need to practice making babies--,"

Jack captured her hips and flipped her on her back.

"Wow! You recovered fast." She stared wide-eyed up at him, while she lifted her legs and pinned them around his waist.

"Goin' fishing." He grinned. "And you're bait."

"Oh boy, can't wait to see what I catch."

"If I have to draw you a picture," he huskily drawled and dipped his face toward her breasts.

A cell phone rang—Sam's.

"Don't answer," he murmured and kissed her throat.

"Um, hon, you know I'd rather not, but that's the ring tone for General Landry."

Jack lifted his head and said with a pouting tone. "You gave Hank his own ring tone—And is that the theme song from _Sea Hunt_ with Lloyd Bridges?"

"Yep. Why?" She gave a sheepish look.

"A bit odd, don'tcha think?"

"Not really. The team and even Walter have their own ring tones, Jack, so do you."

"Which is?" He wagged his brows.

She opened her mouth but didn't answer. On the fourth ring, she lifted the phone from the bedside table and answered. "Carter here." She hit the speaker button so Jack could hear.

"Colonel, I hate to disturb you on your first downtime in weeks, but Daniel believes they've got the gate coordinates for the real Avalon."

"Oh, here we go again." Jack rolled his eyes and rolled off of Sam.

Sam pushed up on her elbow and made a face at him.

"I'm just saying," he mouthed and then sat up, swinging his legs over the bed and yawning.

"Good morning, Jack."

"Not anymore, Hank." He made sure Landry heard his disgruntled tenor. "And this can't wait until Monday, why?" He leaned over speaking into the intercom.

"Sirs!" Sam countered her superiors as she wrapped the top sheet around her and yanked the phone from her husband.

"Doctor Jackson thinks this might be the lead to the weapon that could defeat the Ori, Jack. He and Mitchell want to gate ASAP and I've given the go. They'd appreciate if Carter tagged along."

"I will . . ."

"Nice of you to ask, Hank. But we've got plans—"

"That can wait." Sam insisted and stood glaring down at him. "I'll be there in an hour, sir." She hung up before either man could speak.

"Carter." Jack stood in his birthday suit facing her with his Irish set jaw, his brown eyes dark and menacing.

"Don't." Sam held up a hand. "You know the safety of earth and the galaxy depend upon us finding that weapon and--."

"I was about to say, ya can't go dressed like that." He ineptly waved at her sheet-clad body. On the other hand, you could start a whole new fashion trend." He winked.

"Ah." She obviously hadn't expected him to give in so easily. "Jack?" She stepped closer and touched his face, her expression one of clear suspicion.

"We have an agreement, remember? Besides I've incalculable patience."

"Yes, we do and your incalculable patience is beginning to worry me. I mean since I went back to the SGC we haven't had much time together." She worried her lower lip with her teeth.

"Having seconds thoughts, are we?" He could only hope.

"Regretting that the SGC has totally infringed on our marriage."

"Hey now, there's been plenty of times that I've been gone when you've been home. It all works out in the end."

"You're sure about this?"

His long strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and his kissed the soft palm of her hand. "I'm fine. I'll hang out here a few days and fill the freezer with fish. So," he jutted out his chin toward the window, "go save the world-again, Carter."

"Okay, but I'll be back." She smiled up at him and he nodded with his dimpled smirk.

"Of course, you will." He drew her into his arms and held on tight, closing his eyes hoping that what he'd been envisioning the last few nights was not prophetic, but just a bad dream. "Um, Carter," he said against her throat. "Do your old man a favor and attach an extra reserve oxygen tank to your space suit."

"Huh?" She looked up with confusion.

Jack suddenly felt stupid for blurting that out. "Um, sorry, just forget it."

"Not that easy." She frowned and eased back into his arms, while he proceeded to telepathically say, "And remember, babe, no matter what, I love you and more importantly, you're never alone."

**The SGC Three Days Later: **

'Jack, it's beautiful! I wish you could see this. Holy stars, I love you. But this isn't how we're supposed to end . . ."

"Hang in there, Carter!" With Sam talking in his head, Jack bolted off the SGC elevator and vaulted the stairs to the control room. The base was a beehive of tense activity. The Ori were invading the galaxy and all hell had broken loose.

"General O'Neill!" Walter almost collided with Jack as he whipped around the stairs landing onto the control room floor.

Still in his civvies, Jack had no time for formalities. "Where's Landry?" He glanced at the open gate and the SGC teams and troops of armed Marines streaming through the blue toilet bowl in double time.

"Here, Jack." Hank plowed down the staircase from the briefing room. "Glad you could make it." He grabbed the printouts Walter shoved into his hands, glanced at them and frowned.

"Where they headed?" Jack rushed to the huge window then glanced at the computer coordinates as Walter retook his seat.

"Chulak, sir."

"Crap!"

"Yeah, tell me about it." Landry came to stand beside him.

"Wait!" Jack put a finger to his ear. 'Oh, Jack! The Ori's super gate engaged. The Odyssey's been hit again, I think their shields are down—Daniel and Mitchell. Another X304's been hit! There's nothing I can do . . . hard to breath . . ." Like a crackling bad connection she broke off.

'Sam?' Jack shouted in his head. _'I can hear you. Keep talking. We'll get you back!' _

"Generals?" Walter turned from the communication's board, "We've lost contact with the Odyssey and the Jaffa ships as well."

"Keep trying, Sergeant!" Hank barked.

"Jack?" Hank turned and saw his paler.

"Oh, God! She's out there alone, Hank!"

"I know." His friend shook his head with regret. "I was in contact with Emerson when it happened. We'll find her, Jack."

Jack nodded and closed his eyes. Around him people scrambled and shouted. Orderly chaos ensued. Inside the quiet of his heart and mind, Jack felt helpless and did the only thing he could. He prayed.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

**Ten Days Later: **

"Dad, where's mom?" Cassandra pushed a wheelbarrow full of dead grass and weeds toward the backyard's mulch pile and turned off her IPOD as she waited on her father.

"Taking a nap." He rose from where he'd been weeding a flowerbed. "Crap." An Ancient or not, his knees were still shot. God's warped sense of humor he supposed.

"Another one. That's not like her. Maybe I should check on her." Cassandra paused and Jack knew she meant _he_ should do the checking. Since Sam's near-death experience in space she spent a lot of time alone, more than either Jack or Cassandra liked. Because Landry had sensed something was wrong he'd ordered SG-1 on a week downtime, after all, they'd saved the world -- again. Surprisingly, Sam came home without argument. Jack arranged to work out of the SGC and their home so he could be with her. He understood Sam. Cassandra on the other hand felt like she was walking on eggshells with her mother. His daughter wanted her mother back to normal, but didn't know how to make that happen. Several times, Cassandra had gone and lain beside Sam like she had eight years back when Jolinar had died. Now Cass didn't understand why her wanting to comfort Sam didn't work. Jack wasn't sure himself.

"No problem, Sunshine. I'm going in for an ice tea so I'll check on her." He brushed his dirt-soiled hands down his jeans and headed for the house.

"Hey will ya bring me a glass?" She turned on her IPOD and started rocking her shapely hips. Jack shook his head, and then lifting his shades made a perimeter surveillance of his backyard. Thankfully, the trees blocked her sexual gyrations from the local male population's view. She'd be the death of him, yet.

"Sure yabetcha." He entered the house from the deck's glass patio door relieved that Cassandra was not dating at the moment.

Inside the house all was quiet. The central air hit his hot skin and despite a few shivers, it felt refreshing from the afternoon's summer heat. Jack washed up and removed his sweat soaked t-shirt, pulling a clean shirt out of the dryer. After he poured two glasses of ice tea, downed one he headed for his bedroom. Cassandra could either wait a few minutes or get her own, but he suspected Sam was thirsty.

He entered the dark bedroom and frowned when he realized the air vents were shut. He opened them then set the glass of iced tea on the bedside table. The bedroom felt stifling, like when he'd been in the runaway X302 with Teal'c and nearly suffocated. Only difference was instead of sweating he'd almost frozen and--Dang! He turned to the bed. Under the covers, Sam slept on her stomach, face buried in a pillow, yet she trembled as if cold. Jack pulled back the blanket and looked at her. The spaghetti straps of her tank top had slipped off her slender shoulders. Sweat beaded across her freckled back, and she seemed to be struggling for air.

"Samantha?" When he flipped her over she gasped, flinging her fists at him. "Whoa there, babe!"

He captured her wrists and shook her gently. She opened her tear-wet eyes and upon seeing him, catapulted into his arms and held on for life, violent sobs racking her slender frame. Jack struggled to sit upright on the bed and hold onto his panic filled wife.

"Dear God, Jack, I couldn't stop them!"

"I know, I know." Nuzzling his neck, he rocked her quietly and smoothed her damp blonde hair with his hand. Sam sobbed. Not something she did often, but he was glad. Other than her preliminary debriefing and mission report, she'd not talked to anyone about what she'd experienced alone in space when the Ori had gated into the galaxy. Her report had been expertly detailed, too detailed for Jack.

He assumed that she'd not remembered their telepathic conversation during the incident or refused to address it. Doctor McKenzie assured Jack this was a normal part of the DPTS and she'd eventually confront her feelings.

"The gate's energy surged, I got pushed off the ship, lost my magnetic lock . . . felt helpless . . . Watched the Ori fire on the X-304s and mother ships. I should have calculated the odds, had a plan B and been able to . . ." She bit down on her lower lip and shuddered.

"Samantha, look at me." Jack pulled back and eased a fingertip beneath her quivering chin until they were eye to eye. "You weren't responsible. You've got to stop second-guessing yourself and what happened up there. None of it was your fault, Carter."

"Yes."

"No. I was there and saw everything before it happened. It couldn't have gone down any other way."

"What?" She looked up and for the first time since he'd entered the room she looked alert.

"Um, I had a vision. Only I was in the space suit, but I was you?" He winced and gestured ineptly. "If that makes any sense."

"Huh?" Sam frowned with confusion.

"Look, I can't explain how or why, but the week before you left for Camelot, I had three reoccurring dreams. In them, the Ori had built a super gate while we and the Jaffa tried to stop it. I was onboard the Odyssey, but everyone addressed me as you, Sam. Next I knew I was outside the ship preparing to install a dialing control crystal."

"Holy Hannah."

"Ya're telling me." He snorted. "I had no idea you had your period. Your menstrual cramps are enough to bring down a horse."

Her pretty mouth dropped open. She believed him! "So that's why you said to connect an extra reserve tank?"

"No, the cramps had nothing to do with the reserve tank, but I could have used a muscle relaxer."

"Jack!" She sounded frustrated.

"Hey can't you take something for the groin pain?" He made a sour face.

She blew out through her mouth.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

"I did what you told me." She smiled softly. "I attached an extra tank."

"Why spank me, Rosy. You never told me."

"Um, maybe if you'd read my mission report." She suggested with her Carter smile of white teeth.

"I did, but skimmed your bullet points of technical babble. The issue is, you are alive, Carter, and that wasn't a coincidence." He turned melancholy and hummed a familiar song as he leaned in and kissed the mole beneath her left eye.

"Que sera sera, huh?" She picked up on the melody, leaning into him.

"Yeah, something like that." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Jack, Daniel's right, we are going to grow old together. And when the time comes for us to die, I hope we do that together because I can't imagine going on in this world without you."

"Hey now, that's so far down the fork in the road, let's not go there quite yet." He handed her the glass of iced tea. "Down the hatch, girl."

"Not thirsty." She refused.

"That's an order, Colonel."

"Yes, sir." She drank the cold amber liquid so fast that some of it escaped her lips and trickled down her chin to her neck and between her breasts.

"Wow!"

"What?" she looked up as he took the glass and placed it on the bedside table.

"That's so hot."

"You've got to be kidding." She snorted.

He set her hand on his lap. "Believe me, that's not my sidearm, woman."

"C'mere and prove it, Flyboy." Sam laughed and locking lips they tumbled onto the bed.

"Hey, no giggling." Jack proceeded to prove it.

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**Sometime Later:**

"Man oh, man, a girl could die of dehydration around here!" Cassandra entered the cooler tempered house, set down her IPOD, poured a glass of tea then chugged it down. Wiping a hand across her mouth, she trudged down the hallway for the bathroom and then noticed her parent's door ajar. The silence bothered her.

"Please, Lord, don't let me catch them doing the _nasty_ again?" Warily poking her head through the doorway's fissure she scanned the dark room, and spotted their haphazardly strewn clothes before her gaze settled on the rumbled bed. Oy! Time to exit stage right. But something about the special moment she'd walked in on, kept her riveted in place.

Underneath a wrinkled sheet Jack and Sam were locked in their favorite position she'd witness dozens of times before. Her mom's tousled blonde hair was fanned across her dad's bent arm and a look of peaceful contentment softened her pretty face. Finally! Cass realized the demons that had been haunting her mother had been finally slain. Naturally, her knightly father had something to do with her mom's recovery.

His other tanned arm was folded over the sheet and possessively hugging his wife's waist. With his face buried in the bow of Sam's neck, Jack's nasal snore drifted across the room and made Cass grin. She exhaled a sigh of relief and joy. Tears wiggled free from her eyes and warmed her cheeks and heart. She loved them more than life and wished her kid brother Charlie who was stuck with the Tok'ra could be here. More than anything, Cassandra longed for more siblings to share the security and love she'd found with her parents. Family meant everything to Cassandra. Every since Janet's death, she'd purposely pushed their buttons and done stupid stuff. And, yet, they'd hung in there with her. Until this last year of experiencing their tough love, Cass had not realized how much her parents loved her.

"Thanks God." She shut the door, turned back toward her the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to find she was not alone.

"So, it's been awhile, half-pint." Cass acknowledged the curly, brunette, blue-eyed girl in a pristine white dress.

"Shush!" Grace put a finger to her pink lips. "I'm not supposed to be here." She glanced suspiciously around as if expecting to be found out.

"Playing hooky, huh?"

"Yep." she giggled. "I can't stay long and don't tell mom or dad I was here, they'd freak as usual."

"I won't." Disappointed, Cassandra dropped to her knees and held out her arms for her future little sister. "So, when you comin' home for good?"

Grace stepped into Cassandra's arms, held on tight and whispered, "Soon. At least, that's what the Star Keeper said. And remember, sis, whatever will be, will be, for God always keeps His promises."

"Yeah, I—"

Grace vanished.

"D'oh!" Cassandra grappled with empty air. Unnerved, she stood and glanced back at her parent's bedroom. A smile split her face as she walked away singing, "Que sera sera, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see, que sera sera. . .you sure yabetcha!"

The End . . . for now.


End file.
